


Shadows of a Slaughterhouse: Burnscar

by RagingCitrusTree



Series: Shadows of a Slaughterhouse [1]
Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen, PTSD, Psychological Trauma, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingCitrusTree/pseuds/RagingCitrusTree
Summary: Alex Sloan is still recovering from her time with the Nine. Her own mind lies to her. Sometimes she can't tell what's real anymore. And sometimes she doesn't even know who she is. But being crazy isn't something new. She's dealt with it her whole life, and if this is a little worse, then fine. She'll just have to work harder. After all, she knows things. And information is power.TW: PTSD, abusive relationships, dissociation, vivid imagery





	1. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex moves in and remembers something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding trigger warnings: I'm not going to put trigger warnings on every chapter. That said, the summary has all the TWs for the story on the whole and if there's something that needs special note it'll be in the chapter summary. I feel like it's important to read stories in their entirety, so if the warnings in the summary apply to you, then I would caution you against reading this story.

_The stiletto blade traced tiny, intricate swirls into my navel. Even though my skin – what was left of it – ached with endorphin-masked pain and sung with sharp agony from every new cut, the designs were captivating. They echoed the swirling vine patterns of old wallpaper. Especially the cuts that had been flushed with searing alcohol to stem the bleeding._  
  
_It hurt so fucking much, but a large part of me reveled in the pain. The masochistic pleasure as each of His words cut into me. Cut deeper than His knife ever did. Carved bits of me out in a sick mirror of the movements of His knife. It was the same Game I’d played my whole life. The one where I danced as close to the edge of madness as I could without losing my sanity. The one where I dared myself to edge just a little closer. The one where I balanced the urge to sprint into the Woods with the knowledge that I might never come back out._  
  
_He had me on His razor’s edge, and I wasn’t the one in control of whether I fell off the sides or was split right down the middle._  
  
_There was terror. An excess of terror. And so much pain. But there was also gleeful excitement._  
  
_I was in the Woods now and going deeper every instant._  
  
_He cut again, and I cried out._  


/\⸙⸙⸙/\

  
I shook my head, shook the memories away. I imagined them evaporating in a cloud of greasy smoke before they splattered the inoffensive walls of my new apartment. They were just imaginary, but then I’d have to imagine scrubbing that nastiness off the wallpaper. And I wasn’t up to much imagining these days.  
  
The orange tint of memory slid away as I came back to myself.  
  
I stood with Neil and Crystal in the study in minimalism that was my new living room. Aside from the scuffed coffee table, the hard, white couch, and the new TV recessed into the media cabinet, the room was empty. Compared to the Pelham’s and the whirlwind blur of houses that was my time with the Nine, it was eerie. Lifeless. A facsimile of a living room. Hopefully, that would be corrected with the addition of a second couch, bookcases, and the few pictures that survived from before Jack.  
  
Crystal touched my scarred shoulder, and my new senses lit up with knowledge. I brushed the awareness to the side and looked over at her. Or rather, down. Being a goodly bit over six feet tall, I was taller than everybody except Neil.  
  
When I first met Crystal in the hospital room, I hadn’t known that she was a part of New Wave. That she was one of the most iconic blasters in the world. That she was a role model and inspiration for teenage girls everywhere. I’d just thought she looked like a generic, college-age teen. She was slightly taller than average. Had wavy, blonde hair held off of her face with a girl-next-door hairband. Had enough curves to grab the eye, but not enough to really grab a crowd. She wasn’t the supermodel that her younger cousin, Victoria, was already developing into. She did have nice lips, though, and eyes the color of the morning sky.  
  
Before I knew who she was, Crystal had struck me as a supremely sweet girl. Average-looking, but just… _Good._ In a way I hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. She was the person that made me think of this as a real world instead of a nightmarish fantasy. She was the first root I put down here after all my old ones had been ripped out and torn up, and she was certainly the person I was closest to now.  
  
She wasn’t blood, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t family.  
  
“Yeah?” I asked.  
  
“You looked lost in thought there. Something I said?”  
  
I shook my head again. “No. Just thinking. Want to start moving stuff in?”  
  
She hesitated. Shot a glance over at her dad that I pretended not to notice. Finally, she responded with a gentle smile. “Sure.”  
  
I grinned. “Let’s rock and roll, then.”  
  
Crystal, Neil, and Eric (who was out in the parking lot, watching my stuff) were ostensibly here to help me move in. I had my suspicions about other motivations. Like keeping an eye on me in case I freaked out or relapsed.  
  
You know.  
  
Babysitting the crazy chick.  
  
We all filed downstairs and out into the parking lot out back. Eric was perched on the sidewall of the bed of my faded-blue pickup truck. It was a complete coincidence, but my truck matched his hair almost perfectly. As part of his Shielder persona, he kept his normally-blonde hair dyed a vibrant blue to match his costume. It made him instantly recognizable – or would have if his fanboys didn’t all do the exact same thing. Aside from his hair, the other thing that described him was “padded”. He had hints of his dad’s build in his tall stature and heavy bulk, but where Neil was a modern-day Atlas, Eric still had a little fluff to mask his physique. I had full confidence that with a few months of dieting, the fat would melt away, but as it was, he wasn’t nearly as cut as his dad.  
  
He hopped off the truck and walked over to meet us. “Everything look okay?” He was, on the surface, asking about the apartment, but the way his eyes flickered to his dad and sister told me he wasn’t just asking about my new place.  
  
“Unless anything’s changed in the last minute or two, it seems to be,” I responded. The two behind me – my skin crawled with wallpaper vines at that – didn’t say anything. I gave them the benefit of the doubt and assumed they didn’t do anything behind my back.  
  
More vines.  
  
I pushed the sensation of stiletto blades to the side just in time for Eric’s response. “Sounds good. Let’s get you moved in.”  
  
“Yup.”  


/\⸙⸙⸙/\

  
It barely took a trip and a half to get everything in with four people helping. The couch hadn’t even been an issue since Neil had super strength.  
  
I was sitting on said couch. It was plenty wide enough to hold four people comfortably – five if they didn’t mind being a little friendly – and had cushions and springs so soft and worn that you were almost consumed when you sat on it. It was literally the perfect crash-couch. A little too squishy to be usable for more vigorous activities, but if somebody needed a place to stay the night, it was perfect. It was also that mottled green-brown that was ugly as all hell but would never show a stain.  
  
Eric spoke around a mouthful of pizza, “Hey, Alex. Why do you need two couches?” He was sitting with his sister on the white couch the landlord insisted that I keep.  
  
“I didn’t mean to have two couches. The landlord wouldn’t let me get rid of that one, and it’s a disgrace to the concept of comfort, so I got a second couch. Until I figure out what to do with the hell couch, it’s for people I don’t like.” I paused. “Which reminds me. Crystal, you should probably sit over here.”  
  
From the other end of the couch, Neil coughed a cough that sounded suspiciously not cough-like. Crystal floated over to sit beside me.  
  
Eric rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. So funny. Why didn’t the landlord let you get rid of it?”  
  
I shrugged. “He’s weird. And I don’t mind having it there. If nothing else, it’s good to have when I’ve got company over. Sure, I have the crash couch, but that’s not nearly enough if, say, all of your clan were to come over.” Or the Undersiders, if I contacted them.  
  
He nodded.  
  
“But more seriously, why on earth are you sitting there when you could be sitting here? That couch is pure evil.”  
  
He snorted and joined the rest of us on the crash couch. The hell couch was left alone and friendless. As it should be.  
  
I eyed the pizza and a half that remained on the coffee table. Cold Domino’s was not my cup of tea. “Hey, Neil. When’s Sarah get off work?”  
  
“Five,” he rumbled, “Why?”  
  
“There’s a pizza and a half that I’m not going to eat.”  
  
“You could send it home with us. I’m sure we can take care of that for you,” Eric said.  
  
Neil’s rumbles filled the room again. “You’re a growing boy. Why don’t you finish it right now?”  
  
“Is that a challenge?”  
  
“Sure,” I said. “But you’ve got to sit on the hell couch to do it. I don’t want to be anywhere near you when you throw up from eating two entire pizzas.”  
  
“Me?” He scoffed. “ _Please_. As if the great Eric Pelham would throw up from a little pizza. I have an iron stomach, you know!”  
  
“Maybe. Maybe we just haven’t had a checkup from Amy in a while.” Crystal quirked her lips into the hint of a smile.  
  
I didn’t bother with reservation and grinned. “Yeah, Eric. That sounds dangerous. You should probably get it looked at.”  
  
Eric shot a pointed look at us. Mostly me. Aside from the play-exasperation, there was a something else in his eyes. My navel contorted into a knot. A moment later, the something else was gone, and Eric smirked. I almost convinced myself I had imagined it when a pale blue bubble _snapped_ between Crystal and me. I flinched, and warm steel played on my skin.  
  
The writhing in my navel quickened.  
  
Nope.  
  
I gritted my teeth and ignored the phantom sensations. Beside me, Crystal flicked her finger at Eric, and with a hiss and a blink, a laser crossed the room to sting Eric’s ear.  
  
I focused on the crimson light from the laser.  
  
Neil’s words were unintelligible. I forced myself to pay attention and caught the last half of his rebuke, “- not how we conduct ourselves. Knock it off.”  
  
Images of a secluded cabin in the woods came unbidden to my mind’s eye. _My wrists chafed with the rough_ – phantom – _cords binding them._  
  
Fuck this.  
  
I ignored the words that caressed my ear like the smooth flat of a knife and got up from the couch. My fingers started twitching in the throes of adrenaline, and I shoved them into my back pockets and stretched.  
  
_Alex… Your name is really quite nice. Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?_  
  
Glancing around the room, I spotted the gaming console I’d had yet to get connected to the various things it needed connecting to.  
  
Perfect.  
  
“I’m gonna set up the Sparkfire. Anybody want me to grab the remote while I’m up? Landlord had the cable guys come in a few days ago.”  
  
Crystal shot me a worried look that I ignored. I had it under control. The other two hadn’t noticed anything, and I wasn’t about to give them cause to.  
  
_Out here in the middle of nowhere… Well. It’ll be just you and me and the rest of the family. Won’t that be pleasant?_  
  
Neil rumbled a response to my question, “I wouldn’t mind turning on the news.”  
  
“Alright. Sounds good to me.” I walked over to the TV and knelt down on the white carpet.  
  
“Dad, really?” Eric mumbled around what was presumably a slice of pizza. What with them being behind me, I wasn’t really in a position to check.  
  
_Warm steel parted the back of my shirt._  
  
The remote was not where I had left it beside the TV a few days ago. The cable guys must have moved it.  
  
“Just because we’re helping Alex out this morning doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep up-to-date on what’s going on in the city.”  
  
Three drawers for the remote to be in. I opened the left one.  
  
“Yeah, but you already get news updates on your phone,” Eric whined.  
  
Cables and cords. I shut the drawer.  
  
“Which is on silent while we’re here. Like your sister’s should be.”  
  
I pulled the middle drawer out.  
  
_Dirty fingernails traced my spine. My power flickered and flared in response. I didn’t dare use it. There wasn’t anything I could do with the rest of the Nine around._  
  
My eyes unfocused.  
  
After a minute shake of my head, I forced myself to look back into the drawer. TV guide.  
  
“Sorry, Dad. Ty wanted to know why I wasn’t on campus.”  
  
No remote with the TV guide.  
  
Really?  
  
“And that couldn’t wait until later?”  
  
“Sorry, Dad.” If I noticed the undertones of exasperation, I was sure Neil did too.  
  
I pulled the right drawer out. Spotted the remote.  
  
“Hey, Neil. Found the remote.” I grabbed it and turned around to toss it to him. My hand didn’t let go. I shook my head and actually tossed it to him. “And it’s fine. I don’t mind Crystal being on her phone.”  
  
“Yes, Alex, but that’s not the point. It’s rude to be on the phone while you’re with company.”  
  
I shrugged. “I guess.”  
  
_Jack’s shard was all sharp edges and probes, like Jack himself. I could feel it touch my own shard. Tweak it. Make it make me more compliant. More… Submissive. I gritted my teeth and ignored the flutterings of butterflies in my stomach._  
  
_Not._  
  
_Happening._  
  
I grabbed the box the Sparkfire was in and started unpacking it. In terms of old-universe gaming systems, it was closer to a Steam link than a regular console. It was mostly just an interface that let me play computer games on my TV and automatically back up games and saves.  
  
Because the PC was the master platform, and consoles were inferior, amen.  
  
I couldn’t get it all the way ready yet because I anticipated at least two hours to be spent synching things up between my laptop and the Sparkfire, but I could at least get the hardware stuff sorted out.  
  
The TV flickered on to the Earth Bet equivalent of NASCAR, and Neil changed the channel.  
  
“- other news, Winslow High is closed for the remainder of the day while an investigation into a prank gone wrong is underway. Our viewers will be the first to know about any updates. Back to you in the studio, Jim.”  
  
The Sparkfire slipped from my fingers and fell to the carpet with a thump.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Taylor.  
  
I’d forgotten about Taylor.

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

Jack’s voice quieted as imagined scenes of a bullied and broken girl I’d never met moved to occupy my mind. The memory of the cabin in the woods faded, leaving just a few lingering sensations. I rubbed my wrists to distract from the chafing of rough phantom bonds.  
  
“Fuck,” I whispered. Though the memory faded, the adrenaline didn’t. My palms were sweating, and behind my ribs my heart was doing its best imitation of a machine gun. I suppressed the urge to hyperventilate and took a deep, shuddering breath. Let it out with a little more force than was necessary. Did it a few more times, and when my head started to swim from the oxygen overload I let back a little bit.  
  
This was fixable. I could make it better.  
  
I would.  
  
Behind me the couch creaked. The TV had been silent for what felt like five minutes but what was much more likely to be thirty seconds. Time slows down when you’re freaking out.  
  
I didn’t feel like talking with whoever had just gotten up, so I stood, leaving the Sparkfire where it had fallen, and walked into the living area. It encompassed the kitchen, dining room, and study, all in one oddly-arranged bastardization of a room.  
  
I pulled a stool out from under the high bar that divided the kitchen from the rest of the room, then I plopped myself upon it. Behind me was the dining room table that supported all the crap I didn’t have a designated place for yet - not that there was much crap. Dimensional displacement would do that to a girl.  
  
My phone was plugged into the wall outlet and charging. I grabbed it and busied myself with attempting to beat my high score on the latest game app while I waited for whoever had got up from the couch to follow me out of the living room.  
  
I didn’t wait long, and this game was a platform jumper, so I didn’t even get close to my old high score before Crystal slid onto the bar stool next to me. I noted how she didn’t actually rest on the stool, instead hovering about an inch above the surface. I put my phone down and locked it.  
  
“Checking out my butt, Alex?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  
  
I glanced down and poked her side. Before my finger touched her cotton shirt a flickering scarlet forcefield interrupted me. “You’re doing the thing again,” I pointed out, flicking my gaze back up to her face.  
  
“I’m worried about you,” she said.  
  
“I know.” I opened my mouth to say more, but closed it when I realized I couldn’t hear the TV in the living room. “Hold up.”  
  
She held.  
  
The Pelhams were the epitome of the well-meaning but nosy family. The concept of a white lie was ingrained in their moral fabric. I understood what made them do it, so I didn’t resent them for it, but it was still irritating, and I was perfectly fine guilting them into knocking it off. “Hey guys! It’s rude to eavesdrop!”  
  
A few moments later, I heard the TV turn back on.  
  
Crystal stopped hovering over the stool and actually sat.  
  
“I hope you realize that I get double points for that.”  
  
“For what? Getting both of them to stop eavesdropping? I’m pretty sure that counts for one.”  
  
“Nah. Neil and Eric are a single encounter. They count for one. I’m talking about getting you to stop freaking out about me _and_ getting them to stop eavesdropping at the same time. That counts for double in my books.”  
  
“Really, Alex?” She gave me a flat look, but I poked her again and the flickering scarlet didn’t interrupt me this time.  
  
She did squirm, though.  
  
“Yep.” I popped the “p”.  
  
“You’re terrible.”  
  
“Well, I do try.” I grinned.  
  
The phantom ropes were gone.  
  
“So what was it about Winslow closing that freaked you out?”  
  
I bit back the habitual smartass retort. She was just worried. That wasn’t any reason to bite her head off. After five breaths I spoke, “You realize that’s annoying, right?”  
  
“Caring about you?”  
  
I sighed, forced myself to relax. “No, not the caring. And not even really the pity and sympathy and such. I’m just tired of being screwed up. It gets old, you know?”  
  
She put a hand on my bare shoulder, not flinching at the ornate raised scars. She was the only one who didn’t. “I know, Alex. And you’re bouncing back so fast from what happened, but that doesn’t stop us from worrying. I never want to see you like you were right after escaping.”  
  
I nodded. “I know. Trust me, I know.” I paused. “Have I ever told you about my old best friend?”  
  
She shook her head. “No.”  
  
“We were both crazy.”  
  
She opened her mouth to protest, and I flexed my power, sending an impulse of feedback up through her hand. I didn’t quite shift, but when my shard scanned others, there was always some feedback for the parahuman. It was different for everybody, or so I heard. Crystal had told me that it felt like ice water running through her veins.  
  
She pulled her hand off my shoulder and closed her mouth.  
  
I continued. “I _am_ crazy. It’s not really politically correct, and I would never call somebody else crazy, but I claim that word for myself. It fits me. Stop arguing about it.”  
  
“Fine. You and your best friend were crazy.”  
  
“Yeah. We were messed up in the head. I had my ADHD and nameless disassociation. And maybe some weird mood disorder. I dunno. There were so many things going on in my head it was hard to separate them out.” I shrugged. “Not that it matters. I was functional, but reality was… Fuzzy. His issues were so much worse than mine, and he’d been dealing with them for longer. I learned a lot about handling my junk from him. He helped me stay sane-ish. I could talk to him about my junk, and it helped so much.”  
  
I paused to take a slow breath.  
  
“I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but basically, he helped me feel normal. Or rather, we were the same. My issues felt more like quirks than defects.”  
  
“What happened to him?”  
  
“He’s dead. Died when the Nine attacked my hometown” – the Earth Bet equivalent at any rate – “Or so I gathered. There weren’t many survivors.” I shook my head, blinking away the water in my eyes, and took a deep breath to relieve the tightness in my chest. “Doesn’t matter. I brought him up to point out that he made me feel normal. You guys are sweet and great and I love you all for what you’ve done for me, but you’re all sane.  
  
“I don’t feel normal with you guys. I was okay with my issues before. They were frustrating and I occasionally wished I didn’t have to deal with them, but now they’re on the front of my mind all the time because it’s such a big deal here. I’m _different_ ,” I choked out.  
  
“Oh.” Her face was drawn tight. “I’m sorry.”  
  
I looked over at her and forced an even breath. “It’s fine. I’ll deal. But can we pretend I’m not extraordinarily fucked up for just a few hours? I’m in a reasonably good mood, and my issues are pretty quiet right now. I’d like to savor that.”  
  
The tightness melted away, and she smiled at me. “Yeah. We can totally just hang out. Wanna go flying?”  
  
I smiled back. “I would love to go flying, but I do actually have to do something about the thing at Winslow.”  
  
“No reason that can’t involve flying. Besides, New Wave showing up to help out with a community mishap? That’s good PR.”  
  
“That’s not an entirely bad idea. But… I don’t actually have to go to Winslow to deal with it.”  
  
She smirked. “You know the cool thing about flying?”  
  
“Please,” I said. “Edify me.”  
  
“You can go more than one place. It’s pretty neat.”  
  
“I know that… I just… It’s a sensitive situation, and I don’t know that Laserdream and Laserdream Mark Two showing up would be helpful… Hell, I don’t know what would be helpful.”  
  
“Well, maybe we can go out and you can tell me about it? Flying always clears my head and helps me think.”  
  
I refrained from pointing out that was because she was literally wired to enjoy using her powers. It wasn’t all that helpful, and we were _all_ wired to enjoy using our powers. I’d so-far avoided giving her the “powers come from interdimensional soccer moms” talk because I had no good reason to have that information. I also had no good reason to know that a girl had, with all likelihood, triggered in the so-far nameless Winslow prank.  
  
I wanted to go flying with her and tell her everything. I wanted that so badly. But she would expect an explanation for how I knew what I knew, and that wasn’t something I was sure I could ever let her in on.  
  
I was smart. Really smart. But intelligence could only explain so much, and she already knew my powers, so I couldn’t make up the difference by claiming a Thinker power. Especially not the high-level precog I would have needed to know what I knew.  
  
Crystal laid her hand on my shoulder again. The familiar character of her shard brought me out of my musings.  
  
“Alex? Are you going to answer me?”  
  
“I can’t tell you about it.” I bit my lip. As I opened my mouth to talk, it slid out of my mouth with the sharp pain that meant I’d bitten too hard. “It’s… Not my secret to tell.” I licked my lip and was relieved that I didn’t taste blood. “But” – I smiled and met her gaze, forcing myself to relax – “I would love to go flying with you.”  
  
Taylor had been in a psych ward for a while after she got her powers. I wasn’t going to be able to talk to her anyways. There wasn’t anything I could do until she got out. I did pick up my phone and make a note to see if I could get Danny’s number from the Dockworkers’ website though. If nothing else, that would be a better way of getting in touch with Taylor than hanging outside Winslow like a creeper. I also added a note about Dinah.  
  
Important shit was important, and hell if I was going to forget something this big again.  
  
I locked my phone then held my hand out. “Ready to rock and roll?”  
  
She put her hand in mine. “Yep.” She grimaced. “I hate this part.”  
  
I grinned and flexed my power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos and a comment. If you want more, subscribe! Updates will be spotty while I figure out a writing process that lets me be productive and consistent. I hope to _eventually_ get on a schedule, though, so you can look forward to that!
> 
> Thanks to Kittius, Scribbler, and Nihlistic Janitor for beta reading this chapter and finding all the weird stuff! Mucho cred to Kittius and PitaEnigma for their help with brainstorming and idea bouncing!


	2. Supersuits and Succulents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex gets her cape outfit and goes on an expedition.

When Crystal and I got back to my apartment, there was a huge cardboard box just outside my door. I crouched down and read the shipping label. 

"Who's it for?" Crystal asked. 

"Me." 

"Who's it from?" 

"Taylor Riggs. Boston address." 

"Looks like your costume's here." 

"Yep." 

I stood and fished my key out of my jacket pocket. Neil and Eric had texted me while we were out to let me know that they'd locked up behind them and put the key back in the little box underneath the chassis of my truck. _My_ key would not turn. I rolled my eyes and kept trying. After a few moments jiggling the key in the lock, it clicked and turned as if there was nothing wrong. 

Stupid lock. 

I might tell the landlord about it, though odds were that he'd tell me to deal with it myself, since it wasn't really broken, which was something of an inconvenience, but not terrible. It wasn't like I couldn't pay for a locksmith or install a new doorknob myself. It just left my ass out in the cold if I fucked it up, not that I thought he'd be a dick if I fucked it up. 

Or I could just ignore it like an adult and not spin out over it. It was a tiny thing. 

I shook my head, grabbed the box, and carried it into the living room. After tossing my bomber jacket onto the couch, I headed back into the kitchen. 

Tank tops: Gifts from the gods. Or god. Or entities. Some being vastly more powerful than me, at any rate. The warm blessing that was central air swirled over my bare shoulders, mingling with the moist air from the little humidifier perched on the dining room table. 

Crystal was at the bar, leaning over her phone. I set the kettle to boiling. "You want some tea?" 

"Coffee?" 

"Instant." 

"No thanks. Green tea sounds fine." She put her phone away. "Ty's upset I'm not at school." 

"That's unfortunate." 

She shrugged. "It's not like the first day is any big deal, and besides. I'm a senior, so what does it matter?" 

"Dunno. I didn't do high school." 

She glanced up at me. "You dropped out?" 

I shook my head. "Nah. Came out of middle school, looked at four more years of dealing with angsty teens and my own shit, and said fuck that. I did advanced placement at the local college." 

"Huh." 

Was that a frown? The swirls on my hand prickled. It probably wasn't anything, but... "I was a tiny bit isolated because of my choice, so… uh... it wasn't all good, you know?" A little more information couldn't hurt, and if I was a little defensive then that was just the cost of doing business. 

She met my eyes again and let a small smile drift over her face. "Yeah." The prickles faded some. 

I pulled a couple mugs out of the box of thrift-store stuff I'd bought in preparation for moving out, then dug around in the just-opened box of fancy tea supplies for my fancy tea supplies. 

Crystal's mug got a packet of generic green tea and mine got loose-leaf Jasmine. I kept shitty supermarket teas for people who didn't care about the quality. Or couldn't tell. And since Crystal was a coffee drinker (the heathen), and also had the palate of a particularly flavor-blind orangutan, she got the shit tea. 

Tea was serious business. Also expensive. (I'd totally give her Jasmine if she asked, though.) 

"So," Crystal said with a smile, "Excited to be moved out?" 

I smiled back. "You have no idea." I hopped up on the counter opposite her. (If the counter couldn't handle a 170-pound chick, the people that made it were a bunch of cheap turds. I would fix it myself.) 

"Like, not to be catty or anything, but your house is just barely big enough for all of you guys. Add me to the mix and, well, I think snug is a good word to describe the living conditions." 

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I think snug is a good word." 

"Honestly, I'm kinda wondering what I'm going to do with myself all alone like I am. You know I've never really been on my own before?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Before the Nine, I was saving up to move out, and before that, I stayed with my parents through college because my school was just down the road. And then I was with the Nine. And then I was with you. This'll be the first time I've ever really stayed by myself." 

My chest ached thinking about my family. The normal ache of loss and grief, not the ache of some buried and half-repressed memory. I'd lost a lot of people. Even before Earth Bet. And even though I told myself they were still alive in the old world, it didn't matter much. I didn't really believe I would ever see them again. Even knowing Doormaker was around. 

I shook my head. "Whatever. I've got money. At least for the moment. I have a decent apartment. For some unknowable reason, I'm not locked up or dead. Shit's alright. Job search is, as always, a freaking mess." 

Crystal gave me a look, then said, "How's that coming, by the way?" 

I shrugged. "Fuck if I know. I've put some applications out. I wanted to work with the EPA back when I was in college, but after all that's happened…" I trailed off and suppressed a shudder. "Anyways, I'm putting together my cape resume and poking around to see who I can contact without, y'know, posting my shit on Craigslist." 

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Sounds good to me. Have you thought any more about New Wave?" 

The kettle started the grumbling that meant it was close to boiling. I took it off the heat and poured water into my and Crystal's mugs. (Steeping tea in boiling water could dissolve the tannic acid, which stained teeth and was fucking bitter. Things you learn in organic chemistry. I couldn't make meth, but I knew how to not screw up tea. Go figure.) 

"Yep, and my answer still hasn't changed. I don't want to be stuck in Brockton Bay, and I don't get along with your cousins. Victoria's… a bit much for me, and the last time Amy and I were around each other was an _adventure_." 

She winced. "Yeah." 

"Yeah." 

Plus, my powers were such that I didn't really trust the unwritten rules, such as they were, to protect me from kidnapping or some such terribleness. High trump plus living on your own with no secret identity? Not a fabulous plan. 

"Wanna check out the supersuit?" I glanced up to meet Crystal's gaze after a moment of watching the tea steep. 

She quirked a messy eyebrow. "Supersuit?" 

I put my hand on my chest and feigned a scandalized expression. "Have you not seen the Incredibles?" 

"The Incredibles?" 

"Aleph animated superhero movie. It came out sometime… Maybe around 2000?" 

"Yeah, I don't keep up on Aleph, really. There's plenty here on Bet, you know?" 

I nodded. "That's fine." I nodded again. "Anyways, they call cape outfits supersuits in the movie. There's this big long thing with one retired superhero trying to find his supersuit after his wife has hidden it because she doesn't want anything to interrupt their night out. It's got… Fuck. Um. Shit." I paused. I couldn't remember the actor's name. "Some black actor doing the voice… Fuck, that sounds racist. I just can't remember his name. Look up, 'Frozone actor Incredibles Aleph', would you?" 

She gave me a level look then typed it into her phone. She looked up. "How did you forget Samuel L. Jackson?" 

I glared at her. 

She grinned. "No, really. He's like. The biggest black actor aside from Morgan Freeman. How on earth did you forget him?" 

I stared down my nose to convey my contempt at the question. "I'll have you know, I forgot Carrie Fisher, and she was fucking Leia." 

"Fair point." 

"So do you want to help me unbox the supersuit or not?" 

"Definitely." 

I handed Crystal her mug and took mine and we walked into the living room. Well. I walked. Crystal floated. 

When we got into the TV room, the Sparkfire was all wired up and tucked neatly into the media cabinet. "Hey, will you thank Eric for setting up the Sparkfire for me?" 

"Sure. How do you know it wasn't my dad, though?" 

"He's tech illiterate. Knows how to work the remote and that's about it. Eric has a YouTube channel." 

"Fair point." 

I sat down on the crash couch and set my tea down on the coffee table. I opened the box. According to the packing slip, there were two adjustable masks, mask accessories, a modular helm, an adjustable armored bodysuit with boots, and an owner's manual with full technical documentation. The last part was important. It had been almost as expensive as the tinkertech itself for how thorough it was. The thing was a fucking tome. 

The various protective packing materials filled most of the space around me and Crystal. Granted, with the theoretical strength of the materials, they probably could have been shipped in a box without any padding and been fine. 

Whatever. Not my deal. They could ship it however they wanted. 

The masks, boots, and helm were on top. 

I pulled one of the masks out and tested the weight. It was lighter than I expected. Which tracked. It was tinkertech. If it wasn't really light and really strong, I wouldn't have spent so much on it. I also didn't want to deal with too much maintenance, so the only tinkertech involved in its construction was in the materials (which, I'd been assured, would last at least five years with basic maintenance). I'd hire a conventional techy to wire it up with the various electronic things it needed. It was technically usable at this point, but I wanted a few (dozen) extra features and didn't want to pay out the nose for them. Or have to deal with constant tinker maintenance. 

The mask itself was a grey set of hard planes surrounding a mirrored visor. On the interior, there was a series of concealed straps and clasps that would let me adjust the fit as needed. I attached the leather pads to the interior of the mask and fitted it to my face. The visor was close enough to my eyes and wide enough that my vision wasn't obstructed too much. 

"How do I look?" 

Crystal was quiet for a moment before she answered. "Intimidating. And also kinda creepy." 

"Nice." I pulled the mask off and handed it over to her. "Wanna try it on? I know it'll be weird what with the whole 'no secret identities' thing, but just this once can't hurt." I grinned. "Think of it as teenage rebellion." 

She rolled her eyes but put it on. 

She was right. It was intimidating. And also creepy. My blue-grey eyes peered back at me from the visor, an eerie hint at my powers. "Dang, that's nice." 

She took the mask off and put it back in the box. "You gonna try on the suit?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, but later. Don't you need to get back to school?" 

"It's like an hour left. It'll take twenty minutes to get there, and then that's only like half of last period. There's not much point, and besides, I'm free for the day anyways." She paused. "I do have a patrol after school, though. Damn." 

"Well…" I stood and grabbed my jacket. "Want to go to the Market? You've got your costume on underneath, right? And it's not like you can't just fly over to your patrol route." 

She nodded. "Both good points. I'm in." 

"Cool. Let me put this in my bedroom and I'll be ready to roll." 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

The Lord Street Market was one of those places that always seemed to have some activity. Since school hadn't quite let out yet, it was mostly stay-at-home moms and old ladies, but there were a few college students with early classes and high-schoolers who hadn't started back up for the new year yet. Business wasn't booming like it did on weekends, but it wasn't slow either. Crystal and I got out of my truck and headed into the thin crowd. 

I had my phone, my purse, and my leather bomber jacket with the front open. Crystal was wearing a windbreaker and sweats over her costume, her blonde hair down around her shoulders. Brockton Bay winters were like the Ohio winters I'd grown up with: fucking random temperatures and a shit-ton of slush. Yesterday it had been in the 40s. Today, it was almost 50. Tomorrow's forecast had it below freezing with a snowstorm by evening. The salt trucks were out in full force to keep the roads from icing over after dark. 

We walked through the crowd, not really paying much attention to the shops and stalls clustered on both sides of the walk in buildings and parking spots. I vaguely remembered a garden shop somewhere along the road or maybe just down a side alley, and was hoping to pick up a few succulents for my apartment. Crystal wanted jewelry for an upcoming date with her boyfriend. We were on a mission. 

"Do you remember where the garden shop is?" I asked Crystal. 

"Nope," she said, "I don't really do plants." 

A poorly-planned mission. 

"Well, poop." I pulled out my phone and pulled up a list of gardening stores on Lord Street. There were a couple. One was just off the street. We'd been walking east towards the Bay. The shop was across the road and a little back the way we came. There were a few jewelry stores and stands just ahead. I made an executive decision to keep going and get the jewelry first. "The shop is a little back the other way, but we're almost at the jewelry stretch. Let's get your stuff first." 

"Sure." She smiled a pretty smile. 

I grinned back and ignored that little pang in my chest. 

I popped an earbud in and turned on the Indigo Girls. A lot of my old favorites weren't around anymore, but there was still Johnny Cash, Rush, and the Indigo Girls. That would have to be enough. And really. If you had those guys, who needed Ingrid Michaelson or Regina Spektor? (Me. I missed my old music.) 

We stopped at a little craft stall with a tarp for a windbreak. Just before we got into the lee, a gust of wind blew Crystal's hair into her face. She hooked a finger around it and pulled it back behind her like I used to. I ran a hand through my short pixie cut and grinned at her. 

She rolled her eyes at me, then started looking at what the vendor had. Said vendor was kind of cute, with a messy, brunette bun and just a hint of makeup that didn't cover her freckles or the pink blush from the cold. 

(I was _so_ gay. Pretty much any vaguely-feminine person that looked old enough was enough for a baby crush. Holy hell.) 

While Crystal scanned the jewelry, I scanned the crowd. It was more of a paranoid habit than anything else, but I also enjoyed it on its own merits. If you took a moment to really pay attention to what was going on around you, there was so much to see. It wasn't quite as nice as sitting in a forest and observing, but people-watching was a unique sort of interesting. 

I would be the first to admit that I was a shoe junkie, so most of my people-watching consisted of looking at people's feet. It was mostly tennis shoes, but there were a few that drew my eye. I followed a pair of pale green ankle boots up to a structured, brown dress and further to a young-looking blonde with her hair in a neat braid and a pair of clear, yellow sunglasses that covered half of her face. She carried a set of plastic bags – presumably from clothes shopping – and walked with the gait of somebody who was familiar with heels. I hoped they were comfortable. Clothes could get _heavy_. I'd been in her place more than a few times. 

She made eye contact with me. I smiled. She smiled back before moving on. The girl had nice style and liked shopping. I mourned the crush that never was before moving on myself. 

Farewell, random chick. Nice boots. 

I noted a few crocs and silently judged the owners. It wasn't exactly warm out and crocs were the greatest shoe abomination to exist since some cave-person tied a hunk of animal hide to their feet. Crocs were followed shortly by Uggs. (Or the equivalent here on Bet.) I saw a fair few Uggs too and had plenty of revulsion to spare for them. 

A pair of pristine, black basketball shoes yielded a skinny girl with straight, brown hair cut in a shoulder-length bob. My gut clenched up into a knot that would take hours to untangle. 

She looked like my littlest sister. 

"Alex." 

"Hm?" I said and glanced over at her. She had a necklace in each hand, both silver, one with a short section of pearls, and the other with a sky-blue jewel pendant. The jewel wasn't quite a match for her eyes, but it was pretty close. 

I looked back at the crowd. The girl was gone. 

I scanned the area and didn't see her. My heart was beating faster in my chest. 

"Which one?" Crystal asked. 

I looked away from the crowd and back at Crystal, forcing myself to ignore the screaming in my head. (That wasn't my sister. It couldn't be.) 

(I had to be sure.) 

"The jeweled one. It works with your eyes." I reached for something else to say and the part of myself I called Empress slid into place. "And pearls make people look so very… Domestic." I flattened my face out and met Crystal's gaze, drawing on Empress's flair for the theatrical. "Sow fear in their hearts. Don't show weakness. _Never_ let them see the whites of your eyes." 

Crystal blinked. 

I did not. 

(Laser focus.) 

She furrowed her eyebrows at me. 

(Here it comes.) 

The vendor coughed. 

(Perfect timing! A+! Ooooone hundred per-cent!) 

I let myself blink and grinned. "Or something like that. The pearls are a little much for a casual date and the jewel is more versatile. Plus, it _does_ work with your eyes." 

She shook her head and sighed. Her ponytail wiggled behind her like some weird fish tail as she did. "Whatever, Alex." Turning to the vendor, she said, "Sorry about my friend. She has an odd sense of humor." 

I glared at her like I was supposed to. 

After purchasing Crystal's crystal, we crossed the street in a blatant display of jaywalking and headed up towards the garden shop. The crowd milled around us and a few people stared at Crystal, but the majority were moms wrangling their kids and older folks minding their own business, so we were left alone. I was grateful for this. Too much attention made me nervous, and hanging out with known parahumans was always a bit of a risky endeavor when you didn't like attention. 

That said, most people in Brockton Bay knew not to bother New Wave unless they were at a press conference or something. 

On the way to the garden shop, I noticed the blonde with the nice boots head into a greasy, hole-in-the-wall pizza shop, a few more crocs and Uggs worthy of condemnation, but not the girl with the brown bob. 

And I was looking pretty hard. 

The Pruned and Planted had a sign with a cartoon flower in a pot pointing down the alley they were located in. The alley was well-swept, with a few different shop entrances and a mural of an old oil tanker riding a giant, blue wave down the brick wall. Crystal and I went through the glass door with a hand-drawn sign proclaiming Pruned and Planted's openness and hours of operation and I drowned out the memories of the past with the present. 

Enough thoughtnoise could overwhelm even _my_ chaotic mental processes. (They weren't here. They couldn't be. It had just been me. Just me.) 

The inside of the store was like I remembered it, with a back wall taken up by shelves of baby plants under grow lamps and a few shelves along the side walls with sacks of soil and shelves in the middle with various gardening supplies. The front of the store had novelty stuff on little rotating displays. At least we were in the right place. I headed to the back to look and see if they had succulents. 

I was far from what you would call a green thumb. My mother had kept plants like crazy and so did my dad's mom, so it kinda ran on both sides of the family. That said, I'd killed mint, which grew like a weed. Succulents were about the only plants I hadn't managed to kill, so they were the goal here. (Good redirect, Alex. Don't think about them.) 

Also, they grew slowly and were crazy resilient so I could use them all over as little decorations. 

They had succulents and after twenty minutes or so, I picked one that looked like what I imagined bubotubers would look like if I was in the Harry Potter universe. I wanted another type though, and couldn't decide between the other two I liked. One was regular aloe, and the other was yellow and had leaves with fern-like curls. 

Honestly, I could probably get both and not bother with deciding. It wasn't like I couldn't afford it. 

I had just about committed to getting both when my ears twitched. I hadn't been paying much attention, so I didn't identify the sound right away, but what had been a weird thing my ears did back in the old world when there was a noise I couldn't see had become an almost parahuman ability to pick out sounds. I didn't rule out that it _was_ shard-granted, but I didn't think it was. I'd used Jack to feel my partner, and super senses weren't really its style. 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

_I tossed the wet bag on the ground in front of him. It hit with a wet slap on the bloodstained hardwood._

_"Good girl. You have five minutes."_

_I nodded and reached my hand out to his shoulder. I closed my eyes. The rhythmic radio static feel of his shard gave way to almost-incomprehensible synesthesia and the gentle start of a migraine as I focused on what his power was doing. After something like a minute of acclimation, I started to feel the other shards around us. I filtered away the other members of the Nine and focused on the undulating, dark mass that was my own shard._

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

As soon as my ears twitched, I set the plants I'd picked down on the shelf and pivoted to face whatever had made the noise. My scars blazed, the rush of adrenaline lighting them up in psychosomatic fire that followed the whorls and curls of the vine patterns on my skin. I fought off a shudder and looked down at the middle-school girl with her hand outstretched. 

She was tall for her apparent age and slender, with straight, brown hair and big, brown eyes. I blinked and saw my youngest sister. My heart clenched. My eyes watered. My nose burned. 

_Paige._

_No._ She wasn't here. She couldn't be. She didn't exist on Bet. This was somebody else. Somebody fucking with me. My vision slipped in and out of focus as I forced the screaming anger down. 

More information. I needed more information. Couldn't fly off the handle without knowing I was right. 

She had black basketball shoes on. 

A trickle of warmth flowed from the base of my skull down my spine. My partner was awake for this. I interpreted that to mean that this kid was a parahuman. Or there was about to be some parahuman-brand drama. 

More support for the "fucking with me" theory. Even moderate Thinkers were more than capable of finding that particular nerve. 

"Hi," I said, hoping that this was a massive coincidence and I wouldn't have to fuck up a preteen. "Did you need something? I think the store associate is a couple rows that way." I pointed down towards the row of trowels and hand tools. 

"87.9253981 percent chance you help me if I give you a number." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to my lovely betas! PitaEnigma, Chartic, and Kittius, you guys rock! This chapter would have no cred without your help!
> 
> And for my readers! Thanks for reading =) If you liked it, please leave kudos and a comment. If you want more, subscribe! I'm on the way to putting together something that resembles a productive writing process, so the next chapter shouldn't take as long. See you next time, and happy holidays!


	3. A Rooftop Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex tries to manage Dinah without letting Crystal know what’s going on.

“87.9253981 percent chance you help me if I give you a number,” said the girl who looked so much like my sister that I wanted to scream.

While most of me was consumed by the anger and sadness and confusion, a small part of me processed the implications of what she’d said. After a moment, the emotions drained away, down into a reservoir where they could stew until I could deal with them. I went numb. My scars were the only part of those feelings that remained. They blazed.

This was Dinah Alcott, the strongest parahuman precog on this Earth, possibly on all Earths.

My shoulders tightened like a noose and my gut burbled. I ignored it. Anxiety was expected, considering. All the same, I took deep, careful breaths.

In. Pause. Out.

I was numb.

Around us, the store was quiet. By the squeaking merch racks and the swishing windbreaker, Crystal was at the front of the store. Footsteps a couple aisles over placed another customer just in earshot. I guessed they probably weren't paying attention though. If I could deal with Dinah before anybody interrupted us, I could avert so much drama.

I wasn’t that naive, though. Through the numbness, I began to brace for impending doom.

Dinah furrowed her eyebrows and took a half-step back. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong person.” She started to turn and those brown eyes closed for a moment.

I sighed, venting some of the reservoir with my breath. My shoulders rolled forward as the emotions left. Somehow, I wasn’t relieved. “You have the right person, Dinah. Give me a minute to think.”

Those brown eyes opened again. She looked at me. Her lips parted, her mouth preceding her words, before she said, “How do you know who I am?”

Oh.

Oh, you poor, sweet, cinnamon roll. How could you be so _fucking_ stupid? For the briefest moment, the muted anger and sadness and confusion was overwhelmed with righteous indignation. “You outed yourself as a parahuman to somebody you don’t know in the middle of a gardening store based on the whims of your powers, and you’re surprised I know who you are?” My tone of voice made her take a step back, her eyes wide. I paused to reign myself back in and hissed, “You’re lucky I consider myself a decent human being, because everybody’s going to want a piece of you, miss questions.

“As for how I know who you are? I read it somewhere.”

“Bullshit.” She stepped forward and crossed her arms in front of her as if to compensate for her previous moment of weakness.

“Language,” I admonished. Truly, my hypocrisy knew no bounds. “And yes. Until you prove you aren’t a complete dunderhead, I read it somewhere. Like in a book or a magazine or something.

“Anyways, I just realized I haven’t wholly verified who you are.” I stuck my hand out. “Touch my skin. It won’t hurt you.” Probably.

She furrowed her eyebrows at me before reaching out to touch the back of my hand. (They’d only relaxed for a moment, really.) When her skin made contact, my mind’s eye bloomed into life. If this were a cheesy anime, my hair would have blown back as my partner pierced the dimensional barrier around Dinah’s shard and revealed it.

Surrounding us was a shimmering, infinitely faceted gemstone, striated with glittering veins and biological circuitry. It pulsed with the slow heartbeat of a world and we could smell the lithic blood moving through those pretty arteries. Electrochemical impulses flickered and jumped through the vast circuits. My gut roiled, my shoulders and thighs tight and wound, waiting for the inevitable moment where it would surge to life or maybe –

Dinah pulled her hand away and my vision cut out.

I blinked.

It had been barely an instant – and the vision would fade – but that now-static presence still filled the space around me. My hand shuddered, and I shoved it in my pocket before draining the resurgent cocktail of emotions back down into the reservoir. Not the time. So not the time.

Dinah glared at me. “What the fuck!” she hissed. “You said it wouldn’t hurt!”

I shrugged. “Can’t control it. I’ve confirmed who you are, by the way.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Oodles,” I said, then changed the subject. “Are you in any immediate trouble?”

She clenched her jaw. “No.”

“Cool.”

Okay. Dinah Alcott was here – had, in fact, sought me out because I could, “help” her, whatever that constituted. If this was a representative example of what sort of questions she was asking, she needed to work on her specificity. Fucking vague oracle bullshit. At some point, I had stopped my measured breathing. I started up again. My hand was still shuddering and I started getting cold sweats as the adrenaline wore off. I wobbled in place as my thighs threatened to give out under me. I was numb.

My scars still burned.

Nobody was in earshot anymore. Crystal was coming our way, though.

I looked at the kid in front of me. I hadn’t consciously registered it, but looking at her now, with my emotions carefully tucked away, she was younger than my sister had been. More baby fat. Softer angles. She was also shorter and just a bit pudgier, with a little fluff around her belly that my sister hadn’t had. I wondered if she played sports. The shoes said yes, but the pudge said no. Oh well. A mystery for another day.

“How do you feel about Laserdream being involved in this, ‘help,’ that I’m supposed to be giving?”

She closed her eyes and didn’t respond. I figured she was checking her power, but her response wasn’t instant like I remembered. Crystal had to come from the front of the store to reach us and wasn’t completely sure where I was, but all the same, it wouldn’t take more than a few seconds for her to find us.

She was almost to us – and well within earshot – when Dinah finally responded, “The chance that Laserdream betrays me is 4.67773214 percent.”

“That’s good to hear,” Crystal said, turning the corner from the aisle next to us. She sent a glance to me. “Mind making introductions?”

Aaaaand here was the drama.

I gestured from Dinah to Crystal. “This is Dinah. She’s a new Thinker whose power says I can help her with some unspecified problem she has.” I gestured from Crystal to Dinah. “Dinah, meet Crystal Pelham. AKA, Laserdream.” I glanced over at Crystal. “I still think your name is cheesy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Noted.” Her gaze shifted from the ceiling to the newbie. “Now what’s this about betraying you?”

Dinah opened her mouth to respond, but Crystal put her hand in the air. “Wait. Probably not the place.” She glanced at me and saw the little plants I’d picked out sitting on the edge of the shelf of grow lights. “Good. You managed to get your plants. Let’s pay for them and get out of here.”

Deep inside, where nobody could see, a small part of me relaxed at Crystal’s taking charge of the situation. I _could_ lead. I was even good at it. But I didn’t like it. It always turned my anxiety up to eleven. I liked being a follower much more than a leader.

My cheeks grew warm at the implications of that thought and I silently thanked the Force that they didn’t flush.

In the real world, I gave Crystal a thumbs-up and glanced at Dinah, who was looking a little overwhelmed. “You okay there, kid?”

“Um.” Dinah stared off into space before looking back at Crystal and me. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Cool. I’ll get these –” I held up the plants. “– and we can rock and roll.”

Less than five minutes later, we were on top of a nearby building and my ears were red. I resisted the urge to tug on the hair around my ears. That would just attract attention, and besides, it was cold enough that the ear-blush would fade.

I was sitting on the gravel roof, leaning up against a white, metal A/C unit. Crystal was floating just a fuzz above the ground, her legs crossed in a lotus pose that she thought made her look cool, but really just made her look like a dork. (It was to be expected from the girl who named herself Laserdream though.) Dinah was standing and pacing, the regular crunch-crunch of her black sneakers on the roof a stable rhythm. We were well away from the edge of the roof where anybody on Lord Street could look up and see us, but I still felt that twist of paranoia that somebody would notice our very suspicious little trio.

The sky above was grey with heavy clouds and the wind carried a bitter chill with it. “So,” I drawled, “Where to begin...” I swiveled my head down from the clouds and over to Dinah. “How about you? Where were we? Explaining the situation to Crystal? Why don’t you recap for us?”

The crunch-crunch of her footsteps stopped with a grind-crunch as she turned to face us. She crossed her arms. The paranoia and anxiety surged to life the moment after I realized what I’d done. Oh god. I gave up the initiative.

“I got my powers a month ago. Two weeks ago, I learned that there was somebody after me. I used my powers to find you” – she looked at me – “because you make the person much more likely to fail.” She looked at Crystal. “All I want is help. That’s all.”

I kept my relief to myself for the moment it took to switch gears. “Can you explain what the situation is exactly?” After a moment, I added, “Can you sit down first, though? You’re making me anxious.” I didn’t need the explanation, but I needed to pretend I did for Crystal’s sake. Also, it was possible I missed something. We were pre-canon and Dinah’s kidnapping hadn’t happened until April. Hell, I had no idea when Dinah got on Coil’s radar. Or how Coil got her.

All I had was what he did to her and some educated guesses based on my knowledge of his methods.

Scratch that. I needed the explanation.

When Dinah sat down, Crystal said, “Before you explain the situation, can you tell us what your powers are?”

Dinah nodded. “Yeah. I can see the future and figure out how likely a specific outcome is.”

“Is it passive or active? My power has both active and passive components, while Crystal’s” – I gestured to the blonde who was still hovering in that ridiculous pose – “is entirely active. Not that it matters, I guess. It’s probably enough that we know what you can do and now we’re getting derailed…” I trailed off. “Never mind. I’ll save my questions for the end.”

Dinah looked at me. I wondered if she was wondering why I was playing innocent. Probably.

Crystal laughed. “Don’t worry, she does that a lot. Go on. I’ll shut her up if necessary.”

I glowered at her like I was supposed to.

She smiled a cherubic smile. Something twisted in my gut. Fuck lying to her. After this, I was letting her in on my origins. Fuck dancing around my words. You were supposed to be honest with people you cared about, and it was going to come out anyway. At least this way, I could control the context.

God, I was scared, though.

Dinah looked at us both. Crystal kept smiling, while I forced my emotions down again. “Sorry, Dinah. Go ahead,” I said.

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. So I didn’t memorize the numbers, but I’ve got rough odds in my head.

“Last I checked, there’s a ninety-seven percent chance that I’m taken from my parents by the time school’s out. There’s a seventy percent chance it’s Coil. There’s a thirteen percent chance it’s the Empire. There’s a six percent chance it’s the Merchants, and a three percent for the ABB. The rest is out-of town groups, and I never figured out a few percentage points.

“If she” – Dinah pointed at me – “helps me, the chance I get taken goes from ninety-seven to about seventy, but the chances for the other groups change. I don’t remember the numbers there very well. The out-of-town numbers go up. I remember that. And the timing matters. The longer I go without being captured past school, the more even the odds get and the more likely it is that I stay free. If I use my powers as a cape, the numbers change. Roughly, the odds I get captured go up, but it depends on how I use them. I didn’t have enough time to get all the numbers for that. I can only get so many numbers at a time, and pushing for more hurts a lot. The chance I’m taken is pretty low right now, but it jumps in March.”

Crystal opened her mouth. After a few seconds, words started coming out, “That. Is a lot of very detailed information. How accurate is it?”

“I asked the odds of flipping a coin and getting heads and it changed depending on which side was up. I looked it up and the odds matched almost perfectly. It doesn’t prove I can do long-term predictions, but why have a power that gives bad information?”

Crystal looked at me, “And she actually has powers? She’s not just blowing smoke?”

“She’s definitely parahuman.”

Crystal shrugged. “That’s good enough for now.”

“So,” I said, “How do you want to do this, Dinah? And what do you mean by help? Should Crystal be involved in this help? Should her family?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know if you help me, I have a better chance of staying at home.”

We were all quiet for a moment. I focused on my breathing and began to drain my emotional reservoir a bit. My scars had died down in the time it took to get onto the roof and get set up and comfortable, but they started prickling again as I let my attention drift to Dinah’s resemblance to my sister. That brown hair. Her eyes. Her build.

It wasn’t fair.

I sighed and kept breathing.

Life wasn’t fair. Especially not this one.

“I can think of a few options that might help you, Dinah,” I said, “My powers have helped me understand the way powers work to a pretty insane degree and I can teach you things about managing them that you won’t get in any parahumans course.

“On the other hand, I can probably train you to use your powers in combat. My powers are pretty well suited to that as well and almost every parahuman ability has a combat application or two. I’m sure we could find yours.

“Also, I’m friends with about half of New Wave. I’m sure they’d be amenable to helping train you or using their contacts with the PRT and Protectorate to get you protection. Though, I have a feeling that would require concessions on your part.”

I glanced at Crystal and she chimed in, confirming what I’d said, “Yeah. We can help you, but we’ve got busy schedules and there’s a lot of other people relying on us to keep the villains under pressure. We couldn’t offer round-the-clock protection and training would probably be limited by our schedules as well as the schedule for the training ground we use. I know my parents would want to talk with your parents about it, too, so if you’re keeping your powers from them, that would probably be out.

“Have you thought about the Wards?” she added.

Dinah shook her head. “If I join the Wards, my chances for abduction go down a lot, but… I don’t want to be a Ward. There’s rules and stuff. And I don’t want to be in the public eye. If I was a Ward, I’d probably have to be. Plus there’s how dangerous it is.”

I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know much about the Wards program but I’m sure you could feel things out and see what it would entail. I’m surprised that you haven’t asked your powers about it.”

She frowned. “I did. There’s a sixty percent chance that I lose myself in the job and pull away from my family. Plus the fifty percent chance I get abducted anyway and the forty percent chance I develop a severe mental illness from the stress. It doesn’t seem worth it.”

“Can I get you to ask a few questions?”

Dinah stared at me and though I didn’t really want to, I noticed the tension in her limbs.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to abuse your powers or use you. I think the answers will help you and it’s something you might not have thought of.”

The tension didn’t really leave her, but she relaxed a bit. “Fine.”

“What is the chance that you lose yourself in your powers if you get abducted?”

Crystal looked over at me and I shook my head. “Later,” I mouthed.

Dinah closed her eyes. I figured it might take a bit for her to get the answer based on her earlier demonstration, so I pulled out my phone.

**Me: We’ll chat after this. I’ve got stuff I think I should tell you.**

Crystal pulled her phone out when it vibrated in her pocket, then typed something on it.

**Crystal Pelham: I was going to ask anyways.**

My stomach twisted.

**Me: I know**

**Me: It’s a lot. Don’t hate me.**

**Crystal Pelham: Depends on what it is. I’ll keep an open mind.**

I frowned. That was probably the best I was going to get. I closed the messenger and pulled up my platform jumper. As it was loading, Dinah spoke, “The chance is 87.2677910 percent.”

I nodded. “Okay. How about if you join the Wards?”

She nodded and closed her eyes again. Her silence was longer this time, and I spent almost a minute trying to get to my usual failing point before she answered, “The chance is 89.5666211 percent.”

“Okay. And if you take my help?”

“Last question. That one hurt.”

“Gotcha. I’ve got stuff for headaches in my purse. I’ll give you what I use when you’re done.” By the time I spoke, her eyes were already closed and she had a grimace on her face.

The answer was agonizingly slow this time and Crystal sent me a few pointed glares. I shrugged them off.

**Me: If she couldn’t handle it, she wouldn’t have agreed. She knows her limits better than either of us.**

**Crystal: She’s like twelve. And obviously thinks you’re the answer to her problems. She might be pushing too hard to impress you.**

**Me: Thinker headaches hurt way too much for that shit. Trust me.**

Crystal didn’t respond and I went back to my game. After I’d failed three times and was almost to my previous high score, Dinah opened her eyes.

“The chance is 32.6788921. Ow.”

I fished out a bottle of ibuprofen from my purse and tossed it to Dinah. “Take two. I’ll get you something sugary and caffeinated when we’re done. It won’t cure the migraine, but it’ll take the edge off. You need some hardcore drugs to cure a thinker headache, and most of them are amazingly addictive.” Dinah’s eyes flashed at that last remark, but her expression returned to neutrality so fast I could almost believe I imagined it. Almost.

After Dinah took the pills, she spoke, “So… You’re my best bet for not turning into a slave to my powers?” She tossed the bottle back to me and I put it back in my purse.

I shrugged. “Sort of. I can help you learn to recognize when your powers are influencing you and I can help you understand how to work with that influence, but ultimately, we all get really close with our powers. I can help you steer it towards more of a union than an enslavement, but you’re going to change no matter what.” I paused, then added, “The more you use your power, the more it can influence you, but if you don’t use your power, when you really need it, it’ll fuck with you out of spite. And it’ll make you miserable to not use it. It’ll feel like your own emotions, even though they’re artificial. You’ve got to go through hell to get powers, and in some ways you bring it with you.

“That’s probably not what you were looking for when you sought me out, but it’s what I can offer. I can train you and help you develop contacts in the cape world. My powers aren’t really well-suited to direct conflict. In fact, they’re often useless outside of a cape fight. Coil doesn’t use capes. I can’t physically protect you, but I can give you the tools to take care of yourself.”

Dinah frowned but nodded. “I don’t really know what I was expecting. This wasn’t it, but any help is better than none, I think.” She looked at me. “What are your powers, anyway?”

“That’s…” I hesitated. My powers were the fun kind that got me abducted and used, but then so were Dinah’s. “An entirely fair question. Sparing you the long explanation, I can touch other parahumans and read their powers. And I can turn into them, copying their powers along the way.” I left out the scary part. It hurt too much to use, anyways.

Dinah leaned back. “Holy shit.”

I smirked. “It’s not as good as it sounds. I need other parahumans if I want to use my powers and there’s a cost to copying people. I won’t get into that, since it’s long and involved, and I hardly understand it myself, but trust me on this. My powers are a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Crystal was still hovering and Dinah was still staring. Her gaze flickered from me to Crystal and back. “Is that why you’re friends with New Wave? So you always have some capes around to use your powers?”

My eyes drifted back to the overcast sky and I smiled. It was pretty. “Sort of. My partner makes it hard for me to form attachments to vanilla humans, so a lot of it’s just companionship. Crystal and her family are all really sweet and they helped me through a bad place, so I’m glad they’re in my life. I won’t pretend that some of it isn’t my partner messing with my head, because it is, but I think if I didn’t have powers, I would still love being friends with the Pelhams. Maybe I wouldn’t be as attached, but I’d still like being friends with them.” With that, I smirked and threw a wink Crystal’s way. She rolled her eyes, but I noticed how her cheeks twitched.

“No smiling allowed.”

They twitched again and she pursed her lips.

“No warm, fuzzy feelings about my oh, so dramatic confession.”

I stared her down.

She shook her head and grinned. Her eyes were shiny. “Whatever, Alex.” After a moment, she continued, “If you’re up for it, maybe we could give Dinah a demonstration?”

A trickle of warmth flowed down my spine and I felt tension drain from my neck. My scars prickled, but rather than the usual sharp pins and needles, it was a soft, warm feeling flowing in whorls over my skin. I’d encouraged my partner to make its feelings known and rewarded it when it did so. As a result, I got nice feelings like this when it wanted something. “Sure.” I smiled. I almost never disagreed with my partner. It was by design, but fuck if it wasn’t partly my design.

I groaned and stood up with a crunch of gravel, then leaned against the big A/C unit when my vision narrowed to a black and starry tunnel and my legs grew weak. The thud from where I hit the metal was distant in my ears and for a moment I lost tactile sensation.

“Ooh, shit,” I groaned. Hypotension. Gotta love it.

“You okay, Alex?”

“Yup. Stood up too fast is all. Gimme a sec.” After a few seconds, my senses returned and though my head was foggy, I knew that would fade too. For all of the issues that showed up on Earth Bet, it was sometimes easy to forget the stuff that had come with me. Like my body. I took a deep breath and felt my heart pounding in my chest to get the blood moving again. After a little bit, I was mostly fine and I said so, “Okay. We’re good. It’s cool.”

Dinah was staring at me.

I shot an exaggerated glare her way. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice!”

After a few seconds, she shook her head. “What.”

“Family history of hypotension. Sometimes I stand up too fast and go blind for a bit. It’s no biggie.” She looked like she was about to argue with me, so I said, “Do you want the demo or not, kid?”

“Yes.”

I walked over to Crystal and held my hand out. She floated up to my level and slapped her hand in mine. The familiar feel of her shard bloomed to life instantly, a crackling palace of force and scintillating light. Like Dinah’s, it pulsed with life, but Crystal’s was more active. It shifted around, changing its layout completely from instant to instant. I was never surprised by the changes. With a practiced mental flex, I drew the palace into myself.

My thoughts jolted and my stomach turned. I grimaced. Beside me, Crystal shuddered.

The physical change never hurt. And it always happened in the space from one moment to the next.

Just after I decided to shift, I was shifted. That crackling palace was inside me now, and when Crystal let go, it remained along with the feeling of broken glass behind my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so so so much to my betas! I know it's been a long time coming and this sucker has been ready for weeks, but I wanted to get chapter 4 finished before I posted chapter 3. All my love and devotion to you guys! Kittius, Pita, and Chartic, you're the bestest!
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a kudo and a comment! (Especially a comment cuz rn I'm a comment virgin. Be my first, senpai~) If you want more, subscribe! Next chapter as soon as I write chapters 5 and 6 (I'm trying to put together a buffer so I can get on a more consistent writing schedule, but I'm graduating in May and the thesis has to come first T_T)


	4. The Rooftop Conversation Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex has a bit of a headache and Dinah learns things she did not want to know.

The jagged pressure behind my eyes pulsed to a slow beat and Crystal's shard almost hurt to hold. It felt like a ghost running its claws through my mind, swirling and mixing up the clouds of thought. And all the while the glass was pressing deeper and deeper into the backs of my eyes. It would fade in a few hours, but in the meantime there was a price to be paid for using my powers too much. I kept it off my face.

"You're short," Crystal said.

"It's your body."

"Shhh… I'm savoring it." She sighed. "Mmm… The sweet, sweet taste of superiority."

Ignoring her, I looked over at Dinah and pointed at the ground between us. A beam of crimson light speared out. Gravel went flying and a small cloud of dust formed. When it blew away, there was a little crater where the beam hit. "We're not in a great place to show off Crystal's powers, but there's the demo," I said, in Crystal's voice.

I was running on autopilot. My head could barely string two thoughts together and Crystal's shard was pressing against the inside of my skull.

"That's really cool," Dinah said, a smile on her face.

Ugh. I needed to get an egg-timer or something to keep track of my cooldown.

I shrugged. "Depends on who I copy. Crystal has family-friendly powers and a body that doesn't give me dysphoria. Sometimes, it's less cool." Some bodies I'd lived in weren't even human.

"As fun as this is, I have a patrol coming up soon, and I'm betting that Dinah needs to get back to her life." Crystal glanced over at Dinah. "Dinah? Can I take you back to the ground? Alex and I need to chat alone for a bit and we don't have much time before I need to get downtown."

"I've got to wait for a bit before I can go back to myself, so Crystal and I'll talk while that happens. Before you leave, I'm Empress Lemon on PHO. Crystal is Laserdream, obviously. We can chat more there."

Dinah gave me a long look. "I know what lemon is, you know."

I grinned. "Don't look for my story threads, then." My headache surged. Ow. Death.

She grimaced and shook herself like a dog. "I did not need to know that about you."

"Sucks to suck, then. Don't ask question you don't want answers to."

Crystal fell to the ground with a crunch of gravel and hustled over to Dinah. "Okay! That's enough of that! Time to go! We'll set up a different place to chat more on PHO!" With that, she scooped the kid up and was over the lip of the roof in moments.

When she returned, she glared at me. "Lemon, Alex? Really?"

"I write very risqué pollination sequences. Apple trees have never been so fruitful in their lives. PHO is very confused." At a better time, I would have struggled to hold in a giggle. Now, my head hurt too much to have to worry about that. I let my face fall into a wince.

"Are you okay?" Crystal's face was open with concern.

I ignored the question. "Did you make sure Dinah had a ride home?"

"Mhm. Her parents are here at the Market. Are you okay?"

"Didn't watch my cooldown. Head hurts like hell."

She winced in sympathy and said something. It took a few seconds for my mind to process it and it was still broken.

"Come again?"

This time, I caught it.

"How long until it goes away?"

I shrugged. "An hour for the worst of it. All day for the rest."

"Want me to wait with you?" There was more that filtered out as extraneous. Something about excuses. Her mom.

I wanted to say no, but she offered. It was her decision. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Instead of walking in the clothes that no longer fit me, I floated over to my purse and plopped down in the gravel. No point in taking headache meds since they wouldn't last through the shift back. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the A/C housing. Deprived of sight, the headache was more manageable. One fewer sense for my brain to bleed over.

Gravel crunches let me follow Crystal to a spot a few feet to my left. She sat and sighed.

"Talk slow. I'm having a hard time hearing right now."

"Okay." She sighed again. "So… What did you need to tell me about?"

After a minute, I opened my mouth then closed it. My head hurt. The words wouldn't form.

"Alex?"

"G-give me a minute," I said, my voice small and quiet.

I didn't know where to start. My lip hurt where I was chewing on it. I took a shuddering breath.

"My… My family isn't dead. I don't think."

"I thought you said they died when the Nine attached your hometown?" She said softly.

The roof was quiet except for the low whoosh of air. The wind was swirling around us, getting stronger and colder every minute as the cold front fought past the hills that cradled the city. I imagined some great monster waking up to crawl into the Bay.

"They weren't really my family. I'm…" My mouth was dry. I bit my tongue and waited for the saliva to fill it. "I'm not from Bet."

With that, the words started tumbling out.

 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

The roof was cold and quiet without Crystal. She'd left for her patrol fifteen minutes ago. Said she needed to think about what I'd told her. Needed to collect her thoughts. She'd asked if I'd be alright by myself. I'd nodded and watched her go. Then I watched the sky.

It was getting colder, especially with how my clothes fit on Crystal's body. I was curvier than normal and Crystal's blonde hair kept flopping over my eyes. I blew it out of the way, but it always made a return.

The cooldown to shift back had expired a half hour ago, but I… Didn't want to. My emotions were duller in Crystal's body. Easier. If I shifted back, I'd have to deal with all of the insanity that this day had been.

Bleh.

My head still hurt, but it was duller now. More like a hot day that sapped all my energy than a needle jabbing me in the eye every time I tried to think. My head throbbed and through that pressure, my thoughts were sluggish and tiring. But they weren't broken like earlier.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes again.

Crystal's hair. Crystal's eyes.

Ugh. It was starting. I'd have to find somebody else to use my powers on for a while. At least until my head reset.

I gathered my stuff up and floated down into the alley before shifting back. After a moment to arrange my clothes around me, I headed back to my truck.

It was colder now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mucho cred, as always, to my lovely betas Kittius, Chartic, and Pita! Kittius, especially, was a huge help with this chapter, so if we could all give her a huge round of applause and go read her Worm OC fic, [Mixed Feelings](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/mixed-feelings-worm-oc.375923/) that would be great =D (I would also rec Chartic's [Cauldron Quest](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/cauldron-quest%E2%84%A2.521047/) and Pita's [Nimrod](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/nimrod-x-men-powertheft-complete.560830/).) 
> 
> In other news, since the semester is out, I've graduated, and I've more or less proven to myself that I can maintain a chapter a week, I'll be moving to a weekly update schedule for the rest of Burnscar. So until this sucker is finished, check back every Wednesday for the next chapter! (It is Wednesday, right? I lose track.)
> 
> (Just a little more housekeeping stuff, I promise.)
> 
> With regards to plot and such, I think it's important to note that powers and power interactions and world-spanning plots and supercrazyawesome fight scenes are unlikely to play a major role in the plot of Burnscar or the larger Shadows of a Slaughterhouse series. I see it a lot in Worm fanfic and understand why people like it, but that's not what's going on here. This is all about a crazy chick and her secrets. And also relationships and people and such.
> 
> And finally, I would like to thank the folks that have been leaving kudos and comments. It's really nice to have people engaging with the story beyond just reading it. If you want more, and haven't already, hit that subscribe button!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Question for the readers:** What character from Brockton Bay do you think would most love to meet Alex, and how would she react to this meeting?   
> **OR!** Alex is sobbing in somebody's arms. Who is it? Why is she crying? And how do they respond?  
>  (I blatantly stole this question idea from aleycat4eva on ff.net, so credit where credit is due or something.)


	5. Nightmares and Kitchenware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex is a crazy bean and Amy is an angry bean.

I opened my eyes. Nightmares never left me screaming – not to my knowledge at least. I was drenched in sweat and my throat was tight with grief and fear. My room was dark and though my heart pounded at leaving the safety of my bed, I reached out from under the muggy weight of the covers and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

**03:23**

Fuck.

Rather than looking at the shadows in the corners of the room, I stared at the ceiling.

Fuck.

It was too hot under the covers. My breath stuttered at it, but I threw the heavy blankets off and sat up. From under the covers, a wave of moist heat billowed up and swirled into the cool, dry bedroom. Above me, the fan was spinning lazily, moving the air around. It played over my scars, the purely physical sensation of drying sweat welcome after yesterday's adventures in psychosomatic bullshit.

God, fuck that.

I sniffled and rubbed the heels of my hands over my wet eyes.

Shit was done. It was over. In the past. Still, memories of blood and whimpers and soft fur and warm pressure against my legs played over and over and over like some sick .gif of Alex's Trauma: Greatest Hits.

It was done. I was in the center of my bed. My apartment and clothes were devoid of long, white dog hair. I clenched my hands so hard they shook and sniffled to avoid screaming. I gathered my sheets up into my fists.

"Fuck you, Jack." I was tiny, inadequate and antlike against the blazing rage that eclipsed even the terrifying shadows in the corner of my bedroom.

I slammed one of the balls of hand and sheet against the mattress then let out a quiet sob. The one that followed caught in my throat, still difficult to get out even after all that had happened.

Some things never changed. Not even in a different world.

"Fuck you," I choked past the tears.

I wanted to scream. To rage against whoever or whatever put me here on Bet. I wanted to rip Jack's powers away, then rip into him with his own hands. I wanted to tear and sink my fingers into his chest. I wanted to flay the skin from the subdermal mesh Riley installed in all of us.

Well. All except me. She'd wanted to. She was going to. But I made my exit before that happened and good riddance to that bullshit anyways. Stupid fucking horror movie crap.

I didn't scream or yell or slam my fist into anything that would make a noise. I had neighbors and they probably wouldn't take too well to the chick in apartment 202 being loud and traumatized at three-thirty in the damn morning.

I took a deep, shuddery breath and let the white-hot anger be dispersed by the cool breeze that traced the scars on my upper body. It drained like water through cloth, filtered out through a million tiny points.

After a few minutes, I shivered.

I was still wide awake.

My phone read 03:42.

Had it really been that long?

I wasn't getting back to sleep, so I got up and headed into the dining room. I didn't bother to put anything on. The chill was welcome after the moist heat under my blankets. I did grab my glasses, though. I could see pretty well in the dark, especially with the light from the streetlamps filtering in through my open window, but resolution was, and always had been, an issue.

My apartment at night reminded me of those eight-bit game backgrounds. Pixelated images with little spots of color and animation here and there. My copy of the renter's agreement fluttering back and forth in the gentle breeze from the humidifier on the dining room table and the fan on the ceiling, yellow light from the street outside casting rhythmic shadows. The quiet drip… drip… of my leaky sink. Oddly-shaped shadows from the fat little plants on the windowsill, shifting ever-so-slightly as the blinds swayed back and forth in the same breeze that moved the renter's agreement.

"Psh," I scoffed then wiped my eyes. "Y'all can fuck off with that living on the run bullshit. I have _succulents_. So there. Buttwipes." I'd distributed the plants around my apartment when I got back yesterday.

That was about all I did, though. For dinner, I boiled water and poured it over prepackaged ramen. I didn't have the energy to cook anything decent.

The boxes of stuff on the dining room table called to me. As did the few dishes in the kitchen sink. On the other hand, my head was throbbing from the tears and my face was hot and puffy. Instead of starting on housework at Oh-God O'Clock in the morning, I headed into the bathroom to take some headache meds and soak my face.

By the time I was done, my stomach was mumbling at me, so I put on a pair of sweats, a tee, a jacket, and left my apartment.

It was four in the fucking morning, but Walmart was open 24/7, and I needed groceries.

 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

My truck grumbled to life, its old engine sending barely-there vibrations up through the pedals and seat. I slid into first gear and eased the clutch out as I gave her a little gas. My truck didn't have a name, but like most things I cared about, she was definitely a girl. A butch one, to be sure, but a girl nonetheless.

"Isn't that right, girl?"

I smirked as I rolled out of the parking lot and into the alley that lead to Gerald Avenue. The radio clicked on just before I hit a pothole and Angela Marie's husky voice filled the cab. Earth Bet's pop always weirded me out. It shared the electronic, autotuned sound of the old world, but the lyrics were different. The feel was different. It was upbeat in a way that the music of the old world hadn't really been. Major chords with barely any tension in them, as opposed to the taut, minor feel of the old world's pop.

_...in the sleepless nights_

_Answers that we design_

_Only come in mays and mights_

_This tide gets you down_

_But swim up now, refuse..._

If nothing else, the happy-sounding music was better to listen to when working off a nightmare than the solemn, gritty music of the old world. Those sounds always dumped me farther into the shit than I needed to be.

So, as I drove to that most American of institutions, I tried very hard to focus on the happy music rather than the static shadows and shapes that my brain was screaming were something more.

My ears _ached_ with the strain of keeping them tight and taut, pulled back to hear anything coming up behind me. I was in my truck, but my emotions and trauma didn't really care. Something could _get me._

Even here.

Fucking paranoia. I shoved the panic down and tried to ignore the tension as I drove.

 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

At four-thirty, the Walmart parking lot was like a desert, if the big fluorescent lights were cacti and cars were tumbleweed. I pulled into the lot, taking a spot closer to the store than I could ever manage during the day. My truck grumbled to a halt, and I took a moment to steel myself before tumbling out of her cab, coat wrapped around me like a suit of armor against the cold. Dawn wasn't for hours yet, and it was evident in the almost-freezing-but-not-fucking-quite temperature.

I ignored the flickering shadows in my peripheral vision as I walked into the supermarket. My heart was thundering like a big brass band, and I couldn't help as my vision slid in and out of focus, but I ignored it as best I could.

" _Paranoia, my old friend_ ," I sung under my breath. " _You've come to fuck with me again…_ "

I continued singing as I picked up a cart and ignored the way that the gaps in the long row of carts looked like hiding places. The dark shadows made it impossible to see what could be in there. I turned away and began towards the kitchenware, my cart's back wheel rattling gently as it refused to roll.

Walmart was familiar in a way so little on Earth Bet was. Especially four-thirty AM Walmart. Creepy was creepy, no matter where you went.

I knew the Walmart near the Pelhams, a little ways inland from the South Bay neighborhood they lived in. My apartment building was on the outskirts of the Docks, a little northeast of ABB territory, but not bordering any other cape gang territories. The neighborhood was safer than living all the way in the Docks, and like paradise compared to living in the contested territory where the Docks met Downtown. The tradeoff was that it was squarely in the middle of nowhere. Not a whole lot of jobs around besides starvation-wage fast food and gas stations. A couple little shops here and there. You practically needed a vehicle to live where I lived.

That was familiar too.

This Walmart was unknown to me, but it was still Walmart: fundamentally sketchy and a little embarrassing to shop at. I rolled my squeaky cart towards the big "Home" sign.

Walking past the clothing aisles, my breath caught at somebody standing next to me. My ears pulled back against my head, straining to hear a breath, a rustle, a footstep. I turned to look and... Nobody.

Just a pile of shirts that looked like a person in my sleep-deprived, nightmare-crazed mind.

I sighed and kept heading towards the kitchenware. Couldn't cook real food at my apartment until I had a knife and some utensils. Maybe a few pots and pans, though I vaguely recalled some from the pre-moving-out thrifting adventure with Vicky and Crystal.

Say what one may about Victoria (and PHO had a lot to say about her), but that girl could shop like it was her career. Crystal was present to prevent excessive clothing purchases.

And spending too much time on shoes.

Oh god. Shoes.

I let my thoughts wander in an attempt to distract myself from the many shadowy figures my mind was making up, and by the time I reached the knives and other kitchen utensils, my ears ached from the strain of laying flat against my skull for so long. Human ears weren't supposed to do that, and mine did not appreciate the abuse. The squeaky cart rested in the mouth of the aisle while I reached up to massage my ears back into relaxation.

Something clopped like a hard-soled shoe on linoleum.

I didn't turn.

It clopped again.

And again.

And again.

At the third footstep, I turned around and dropped my hands from my ears, maybe a little faster than was necessary. (There was only so much I could do to suppress the paranoid panic, and not whipping around when there was _somebody behind me_ was not one of those things I could control.)

I grimaced at the self-satisfied smirk that greeted me.

"Alex!" Amy Dallon said, "How nice to see you!" Her voice was high and nasally: blatantly sarcastic.

"What a pleasant surprise," I responded in my best deadpan monotone.

"Oh my god, are you going to be-"

"Cut the shit, Amy," I interrupted.

She shrugged. "Just practicing for when I'm forced to interact with you again."

Amy Dallon was a fair bit shorter than her supermodel of an adoptive sister. She had curly, brown hair that looked like it would frizz up given the slightest excuse, and enough freckles on her face that she almost looked tan. Beyond her height, I'd never been able to tell much else about what she looked like, because in all the time I'd known her, she'd never worn anything that was remotely close to fitting. It all hung off her and consumed her body in folds of fabric. Today, it was an oversized Brockton University hoodie and mom jeans. Her Panacea robes hung around her shoulders, wrinkled and covered in various various bodily fluids that were _totally_ going to leave a stain.

She smelled like a dead animal that had been left in an overfull ashtray.

"Jesus, Amy, when was the last time you had a fucking shower? God, that's nasty." I plugged my nose and stared down at her. Plus-side of being tall: looming came easily. Downside of being tall: same thing. I had a permanent crick in my neck from always looking down at things.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've been volunteering at hospitals all night. What's your excuse for smelling like a gym locker?" She sneered at me. It was a good sneer, but I'd seen a lot of sneers and her sneer wasn't quite a master sneerer's sneer.

"Trauma-related nightmares and insomnia."

She opened her mouth to respond, but I interrupted her before she could get more than half a vowel out, "And fuck off with that holier than thou bullshit. The only reason you were at the hospitals all night is because you were feeling like a shithead and wanted to punish yourself." Silently, I welcomed the banter. If nothing else came from us bitching each other out, I could use it to distract myself from the shadows.

"Besides," I continued, "How the fuck can you smell me at all under the ashtray you're wearing? That's quite literally the foulest thing I've ever seen you in and lord knows you don't have your sister's fashion sense."

Amy scowled.

First blood: Me.

Amy: 0

Alex: 1

She glanced around me into my cart.

"Knives. Lovely. Buying those with your blood money?"

I blinked.

What the actual fuck.

"No. I'm going to make breakfast with them when I get back. You aren't invited. I don't want my apartment to smell like a corpse."

_– The sun was up, casting a warm glow over the cool body lying face-down on the floor. The puddle stretched the entire width of the hallway, and the hardwood underneath was going to be permanently stained._

_"Are you gonna make me eggs and bacon, 'Drea? I checked the fridge. There's plenty of ingredients. If you do, I might consider fixing you."_

_When I spoke, my voice was unnaturally high, but not through any emotional reaction. Those had been shoved away days ago. No, Bonesaw had fucked with my voice. "Sure, kid." I glanced down at the little head of blood-crusted, blonde curls beside me. "But first, you need to move your... Supplies. And clean up the mess they've made. Good girls don't leave messes."_

"– lex? Alex?"

_It was like sweet vomit. The corpse hadn't been out there for more than a night, but it was already bloating and rotting. Had Jack's knife been laced with something? The basement must be awful. I cracked open the fridge and started looking for ingredients. First, peppers, then –_

Vaguely, I was aware that I'd pulled the cart out of the hallway. Aisle. Amy was beside me, her face in a frown. "Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"So much, Amy. But not what you think is wrong with me. Fuck off. Get away from me."

I turned the cart around. Couldn't get groceries yet. I still needed pots and pans –

_"– for the eggs. Do you know where they kee-kept them, honey?" My voice was full of emotion, but I didn't feel any of it. It was like when I was little and had to fake the right affectation or people got creeped out. An old game, and one I had mastered. It was just how I spoke at this point: emotional content woven in with the right words to seem outgoing, friendly, like I cared about everybody I talked to. I'd cracked that code a long time ago._

"Jesus, that's fucked up. Do you really not feel anything?"

I sighed, forcing the emotions into my entire body. I looked tired. I acted tired. You are what you behave as, and I _was_ tired. "No, R-Amy. I have a lot of emotions. Just have a hard time with not repressing them. I'm working on it."

She smirked. "Yeah, except I saw how you acted after Victoria touched you. You were dead."

"Scared and – fuck, I can't do this." I shook my head and sat down on the hardwood-linoleum. "Memories got me all confused." Overhead, quiet sunlight and buzzing fluorescent bulbs lit the whole house-supermarket. I had no idea where I was in the store, and I didn't bother to look around to check. I needed grounding. Needed something to hold me in the present. Had I touched... No. I hadn't touched her in the mornings. "Give me your hand, Amy."

"Fuck no. You're a striker."

"So are you. Warp me like a chewed up Barbie doll if you get scared, but give me your _fucking_ hand. I need to ground myself." Each word was an effort. Like a set of stairs after leg day. Nothing insurmountable, but I had to focus to get them out.

The focusing helped. The store started to feel more real.

"Fine, but I'm giving you cancer if you do anything to me."

"Fine." I reached out and grabbed her hand. Instead of actively scanning her shard, I just let it feed me what it wanted to about itself. It was hard. My instinct was always to scan.

Her shard was crystal veins and pulsing flesh in a dim room. It filled the cavern with itself, and this was just a facet of the shard. I knew there was more. Slowly, as I focused on Amy's shard, the memory-memories drained to the back of my mind, where I could fade over time. I'd cooked breakfast a lot with the Nine. It had kept me sane.

"Holy shit, Alex. What the fuck is in your body?"

"I don't even know at this point. It works, and I'm not bleeding from anything, so I figure let it be. Ri-Bonesaw was- _is_ a real mad scientist, and I was around for a while."

"You _let her_ do this to you?"

"Didn't have much choice."

Amy didn't respond until she'd shaken her head. When she was done, she pulled her hand away, her scowl firmly back in place. She pulled her hand out of my grip, and her shard faded as I lost contact with her hand. Still, there was a hint of sympathy on her face. Couldn't have that.

"You're right, you know," I told her. "I had to do some fucked up stuff to survive that. I've cooked breakfast for monsters. Jack Slash and I fucked. Bonesaw called me her sister, which pissed Siberian off like nothing else. But I knew her weakness, and so we had an accord. I knew all their real names. And I killed Shatterbird and Mannequin when I was escaping. I didn't have to. I could have made it out without killing anybody. The body I'd taken at that point would have let me escape completely unnoticed, but I wanted to _make a point_. Mannequin and Shatterbird were edgelords, and I knew Jack would let me go as long as I left in an interesting way. So I pinned Shatterbird to a tree with her own shards -- after taking her head, of course -- and I tied Mannequin around her in a pretty knot after I broke into his armor and ripped out his heart. I kept his head for proof. The PRT got both of them. I don't know what happened afterwards."

Amy was staring at me.

"So keep looking. Keep trying to prove I'm as messed up as you think I am. Nobody's going to believe that I told you all this, since you already hate me. But if you can get proof, then do what you want with it. This is a game, Amy, and I'm winning as long as you don't get what you want."

I stood up, grabbed my cart, and headed to get the groceries I'd need for bacon and eggs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it would be out today! As always, thanks go to the betas, Kittius, Chartic, and Pita. And thanks also goes to Roon for help with Amy's characterization! They are absopositively invaluable for getting this done on the schedule I've set myself, and total angels for helping when they all have so much going on in their lives. I appreciate it, guys!! Also, credit goes to Miracle of Sound for the lyrics I used here (without permission, because I suck). [Check out the full, actual song (which is not sung by a woman)!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-BS5UhpuFU&feature=youtu.be)
> 
> This week's fic recs are [I Woke Up As a Dungeon, Now What](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/i-woke-up-as-a-dungeon-now-what-dungeon-worm.620521/), which is a fun post-GM Taylor as a sentient dungeon. Also, gonna rec Skyrunner's [On a Lark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127589), a cute little post-Levi Taylor/Lisa one-shot.
> 
> (Regarding comments on last chapter, Alex has already encountered a few capes that haven't had much if any screentime so far. Some, she's noticed. Others, not so much. Also, the only powers Alex has are parahuman in nature. She had no powers beyond being a smarty-pants when she was inserted. Finally, Alex and Crystal might have fought? It's unclear. Mostly, I wanted to skip the, "I'm a self-insert" talk because we've all seen it enough that it's boring. But it does let me play a little fast-and-loose with what, exactly, went down.)
> 
> Thanks also go to everybody who commented on the last chapter and to everybody who left a kudo (and also all the lurkers who contribute to the hit count =D). Subscribe if you haven't and want updates, and here's this chapter's question!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Question for the readers:** Why on Earth (Bet) was Amy at Walmart at five in the morning? (And why didn't she change out of her robe? Ew.)  
>  **OR!** Alex wakes somebody up in the middle of the night. Who is it and why does she do it?


	6. People Mostly Talk In This Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex has conversations with people and is teased about her fanfic T-T

It was seven when I finally got back to my apartment. As soon as I dropped the groceries off in the kitchen, I went back to bed. I still had almost an hour til dawn, and my eyes were itching for rest. Falling asleep took entirely too long.

When I woke up, my entire body ached with exhaustion.

"Ugh." The morning light kissed the lilac walls of my bedroom and planted a big, sloppy smooch right on my face. I groaned and rolled over, away from the window. "Mmmfgh..." I said, with all the eloquence of a fourteen year old after a sleepless sleepover.

With my face pressed against the pillow, there was almost enough darkness to get maybe another hour, but there wasn't any point. My brain was awake. It would be a while before I could try for a nap.

"Fucking christ," I muttered, then oozed my way out of bed.

Maybe if I showered, my brain would chill enough for sleep...

A half hour later, as I stood naked and damp on the cheap carpet, I determined that the answer to that question was no. I felt a little less like roadkill, though, so that was a plus.

"Alright, Alex. Food, then."

After pulling on some underwear and an Arcadia High hoodie I'd stolen from Crystal, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, then left my bedroom to make breakfast. While the broccoli, carrots, and onion for my omelette were cooking, I checked PHO. After verifying that my Armsmaster/Dauntless fic had, indeed, generated a few more likes and another flame war, I opened up my PMs.

_3 new messages from yesterday at 18:16_

***Girl in the know*:** _Hey_

 ***Girl in the know*:** _You're the market girl right?_

 ***Girl in the know*:** _Also, Armless is a terrible ship name._

I took a moment to stir the veggies before responding.

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _Armless is great! Also, yeah. I'm the market girl._

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _Do you and your folks want to arrange a meeting? (Fair warning, Laserdream and I might not both be able to make it.)_

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _(Inviting Laserdream to this convo btw.)_

- **EmpressLemon** _has invited_ **Laserdream** _to the conversation_

I added all the ingredients to the egg batter, mixed it up and dumped it into the pan. Soon enough, the kitchen smelled like garlic and soy sauce. My phone chimed.

 ***Laserdream*:** _I'm going to be busy all week with back-to-school and patrols. It'll probably have to be just Empress unless you're willing to wait until the weekend._

The egg was almost all done, so I dumped half the veggies into the middle of it, added cheese, folded it, and dumped the rest of the veggies on top with a little cheese and cilantro. In the middle of the most critical part of the process, my phone chimed twice.

I covered the pan up with a plate before checking the messages and typing out my response.

 ***Girl in the know*:** _I'll check with my parents._

 ***Laserdream*:** _Sounds good_

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _Ok_

In the middle of eating my omelette, my phone chimed again.

 ***Girl in the know*:** _Empress, can you do tonight? Other than today, my parents aren't free until next week._

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _Can't see why not. What time?_

 ***Girl in the know*:** _I'll ask_

 ***Girl in the know*:** _Class starting gtg_

 ***EmpressLemon*:** _kk keep me updated_

There weren't any more messages, so I got up and started getting the dishes cleaned from breakfast. I was feeling awake and productive, and I knew from experience that if I didn't maintain my productivity I would crash and be useless for the rest of the day. As-is, I figured I had about an hour or two of focus in me, so I cleaned up the kitchen, started a mug of tea, and pulled up the Dockworkers website. Time to see what I could do about Taylor.

Oh! And my plants needed watering. Probably.

 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

"Hi. Danny Hebert?" I tapped the eraser end of the pencil against my lower lip, my mouth hanging open an inch or so. My leg was bouncing with nervousness and my heart felt like it might pop out of my chest, it was beating so hard. This was it. This was...

The calming aroma of jasmine tea wafted past my face. I glanced down at it.

This was just a dude whose daughter was in the hospital.

"Speaking."

"My name is Alexandrea Sloan. I'd like to wish your daughter a quick recovery. I know now can't be a good time, but I have some information for you about what happened, and I felt that waiting wouldn't be prudent." The tea had steeped past the pale golden color that meant it was done and was a solid urine-yellow that would be bitter as all hell.

Ew.

Gross metaphor.

Ew. Ew. Ew.

I did my best to shove that image out of my mind along with the phantom flavor of oversteeped jasmine. I pulled the ball of leaves out by the chain and set it on a rag.

The metallic taste of pencil-butt came over me and I absently removed the eraser from my mouth.

I squelched a yawn. God, I needed more sleep.

"Mister Hebert?"

"I'm here. Why didn't you go to the police?" Something about his tone sent a cold blade down my spine. There wasn't anything in his voice that was any different than what he said earlier, but all the same, tension trickled into my joints. Or maybe that was just the sleep deprivation.

"It doesn't..." – I searched for the right word – "pertain to their investigation."

"They aren't investigating." This time, the flatness of the statement caught me off guard.

"Oh." There wasn't much to say beyond, "I'm sorry."

"Why do you care?" His voice wasn't quite hostile, wasn't quite accusatory, but it was… tense.

I thought about it and ignored the alarm bells in my head. Feeding it would just make it worse.

"It's a long story. I've been in a similar place, and she doesn't deserve what happened to her. I want to give you and your daughter information that will help her make better choices than I did."

It wasn't the full truth. Wasn't anywhere close to it. And while our situations were similar, they weren't really comparable. All the same, I felt for her, and I wanted to help if I could.

There was a long silence, then, "Please don't call again."

The line went dead.

Fuck.

"Fuck."

My heart thudded in my chest. I could feel the beats in my hands; they twitched with each pulse. I took a deep breath. Let it out. It didn't help.

"Fuck."

"Fucking hell."

Inhale.

"Shit!"

Exhale. I ran a hand through my hair, shoved my computer back, and leaned over my still-warm tea. I rested my head on my hands and inhaled the steam. It still smelled nice. I closed my eyes.

What did I think was going to happen? Did I seriously expect Danny to just go with what I wanted without any question? How the fuck had I managed something so dumb and impulsive?

"Oh I'll just call Danny. He's Taylor's parent. Obviously, he'll want me to help Taylor once he knows about our respective powers. Obviously. Brilliant, Alex. Truly stellar. A-plus. Here, have a trophy."

I scoffed and a bit of tea splashed up to my face. It dripped off my glasses even as they fogged up from the steam. I didn't bother to wipe the water off.

"Fuck."

"Okay." Bitching myself out wasn't productive. What did I need to do next?

I still wanted to help Taylor. I didn't have any ideas on that front, and calling Danny back was liable to piss him off. (It would piss anybody off.) Maybe he'd try to get a restraining order. Maybe that would be the straw that would bring my carefully-constructed life tumbling down around my ears. (And what I said to Amy would certainly make that easier.) No. I'd have to find a new approach. (I couldn't risk it.) It could wait, though. As long as I didn't start a gang war that left her homeless or something, Taylor wouldn't be on the streets for months. I had the time to let Danny calm down.

So. I had time.

I paused for a moment, then got up and headed into my bedroom to put on clothes. Time to get unpacked.

 

/\⸙⸙⸙/\

Dinah still looked a little like my sister. Not a lot. She wasn't thin enough, and her face was too short. But she had my sister's hair and her black basketball shoes and her big, brown eyes and that was enough to make my heart stutter. I smiled at her and the brown-haired man and woman who were presumably her parents.

We were meeting at Minelli's, an Italian place nestled on the cliffs overlooking the water in the South Bay neighborhood. The building was old, with brick and mortar walls, and an open-air dining room that was open to the Bay in the back. It was cold and rainy and I was bundled up, waiting under the crimson awning over the front door when they arrived, four minutes past seven.

Dinah and her parents smiled back at me.

"How about we save the introductions for inside," I asked. "It's a little gross out."

The man, who had pale eyes and leather shoes the same color as his pale, brown hair, said, "That sounds great."

I nodded and pulled the door open, then followed everybody into the little greeting area. The big, glass door shut quietly behind me.

Inside, Minelli's was wood and brick, with old, worn floors, and comfortable seating. After shucking my coat, I turned to Dinah's parents and said, "Hi. I'm Alex Sloan. Crystal and I met Dinah at the Market yesterday."

"So we've heard," Dinah's mother said, her voice empty and emotionless.

Dinah rolled her eyes. "Mom, Dad, she's not a predator. Alex," she said, turning to me, "These are my parents, Thomas and Louise Alcott."

I smiled and stuck my hand out to them. "I'm sorry that we're meeting under these circumstances, but it's nice to meet you. Your daughter's a really bright kid."

After a tense moment where my hand was left hanging in midair, Thomas shook my hand. Then, Louise shook it. My hand was adequately shaken.

The host came, and I requested a table in a corner. Normally, I'd go for the booth, since it eased my anxiety about people behind me, but that was a little intimate for a first meeting. Whatever. I'd be fine with having my back to the wall.

Dinah ended up opposite to me, Thomas and Louise in between us. I refused to read into it. I'd already been rebuffed by one parental unit today. I wasn't going to screw this meeting up with paranoia. Fuck that nonsense.

Dinah's parents were both dressed well, Louise in nice jeans, boots, and a sweater, and Thomas in navy slacks and a thick, knit sweater. They both had brown hair, but on opposite ends of the brown-hair spectrum. Thomas's hair was light enough that it was nearly a dirty blond, while Louise's hair was dark and rich, almost black. His was wavy, while hers was straight. They both had fair skin, though, and they both looked fit. Thomas's eyes were pale, while Louise's eyes... My sister got her eyes from our mom. Dinah had her eyes from her mother, too.

I lifted my glass to my mouth. Took a sip of lemon water so cold my teeth hurt touching it. It was warm in the room, and the glass was sweating condensation.

"So, Alex," Louise began, her eyebrows furrowed, "What, exactly, do you do? You're a cape, right? Are you a hero or a rogue or something?"

I grinned. "Actually, as it so happens, I'm currently unemployed. I've got some money put away from some of my past... Adventures, but I'm not really interested in the cape life. Too much craziness for me, and I'm not an adrenaline junky like most of the capes out there." I shrugged. "I guess folks would call me a rogue, but I'm staying out of the public eye as much as possible, so I'm not sure it really fits."

Thomas frowned. "If you're trying to stay out of the public eye, why are you going to the market with Laserdream?"

"The Pelhams took me in after I ran away from some pretty bad people. Crystal and I kinda hit it off and so we do a lot together. Besides," I added, "My powers need other parahumans around. I get antsy if I'm not around other people with powers. Every parahuman develops a few power-related quirks. Dinah probably has some already. She's had her powers long enough for them to start affecting her."

They nodded along with what I was saying, as if they'd seen some of what I was talking about.

Dinah raised her chin. "Who were the bad people you ran from?" Louise started to glare at her, but stopped as Dinah plowed forward, then finally turned to me, wanting to see how I responded.

I winced. It took me a moment to put together an answer. "I... Would prefer not to talk about that. They aren't coming for me, if that's what you're wondering." Dinah opened her mouth, and I interrupted, "Don't press, please. I've got a lot of bad memories tied up with those stories."

"Okay," Thomas said, quickly, and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at Louise, and they traded something I couldn't decipher. "Our daughter believes that Coil is going to try and abduct her. She thinks that you are her best chance at avoiding him. My wife and I would prefer to get Dinah into the Wards or under PRT protection. Why should we rely on you and Laserdream rather than the people trained to deal with parahuman threats?"

"Dinah, can I ask a question?"

Thomas and Louise nodded, but I wasn't looking at them. Dinah said, "Wait until the food gets here. It'll just be a couple minutes. After, we're less likely to be overheard."

"Okay," I said.

We sat quietly while we waited for the food. When it arrived, an assortment of various Italian dishes (veggie calzones with pizza sauce for me, and other stuff for the other folks), the server asked us if we needed anything else. Dinah said no, but the server waited for one of the adults to echo her before he left. Dinah frowned at that, but after he'd left, she said, "Okay, Alex. Go ahead."

"Alright," I started, "What is the chance that PRT troops assigned to guard your house will allow Coil to take you?"

Her eyes were only closed for a moment before she responded, "75.2223469 percent chance that troops assigned to guard our house will allow me to be taken."

"Thanks, Dinah," I said, then continued, "Whether you believe her powers or not, I'm sure Dinah believes what her powers tell her. She wouldn't trust that she'd be safe."

Louise looked at her daughter. Dinah nodded. "I've tested it. My power's always right." She closed her eyes then opened them a few long seconds later. She was slowing down. "If Alex helps me, the chance that I'm successfully taken is 32.6643900 percent."

"Successfully?" Thomas asked.

"Sometimes, Coil starts to get me, but Alex or Laserdream or, sometimes, another member of New Wave stops him. Mostly, I make it out okay. Sometimes, I'm hurt. I almost always survive."

"You die?" I asked.

"Not usually," she responded brightly. "I'm almost as likely to die in a car crash!"

I blinked.

Thomas and Louise stared at Dinah.

"That's a little morbid," I noted.

Thomas and Louise traded another loaded glance, then Louise stood up, pushing her salad out of the way. "Dinah, can we talk outside?" She didn't wait for Dinah to respond before pulling her daughter's chair out from the table. Dinah and Louise walked out past the greeting area and out the big, glass door, one of Louise's hands planted firmly on Dinah's shoulder.

I took a bite of my calzone. It was good.

Thomas winced at me. His eyes were pale enough that it was hard to tell what color they were. I wanted to lean towards gray, but I wasn't sure. Worry lines appeared on his forehead before he spoke. "I'm sorry about that. She's usually not so... Inappropriate."

I shrugged. "I've dealt with a lot worse than a snarky kid afraid of what her powers are telling her. Besides, powers change people. Usually for the worse. Especially younger people. All-in-all, if she just develops a taste for morbid jokes, I'd say you've made out alright."

After a moment, I realized what Dinah had done.

"Motherfucker," I swore.

"Something wrong?"

"That wasn't just a morbid joke. Your kid split you and your wife up so you'd be more likely to let me help her. Probably, she looked at the odds of you two agreeing if you were split up and decided she liked those odds better."

Thomas just sort of stared at me. (Now I was looking at his eyes, they were pale blue. I looked away.)

Breaks in conversations are usually just a moment. The feel long because human beings are wired to focus intensely on other people, and time slows when you're focused. So, second-by-second, as Thomas's silence stretched on, my scars began prickling and my ears warmed. I fought off the urge to curl in on myself, instead sitting up straighter in my seat.

"I... Uh. Sorry for cursing. I grew up in Appalachian Ohio. Old habits die hard and all that."

Thomas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Louise curses like a sailor. I'm pretty much immune to it." He looked up at me and met my gaze for a moment, then looked down at the table. "Dinah's an only child. She's got a few cousins, but, all in all, she's been babied her whole life. And she's always been a little sly. Not overtly manipulative, but she has a habit of getting her way. We were hoping she'd grow out of it a bit, but that's probably not going to happen, is it?" He finished his question looking up at me.

I leaned forward to rest my forearms on the table, mirroring his position. It was half conscious and half automatic, but I felt the shift as Emotion came forward to handle this. She was good at that.

"In my experience, most thinkers are a little manipulative. They also tend to get really proud of their minds. Most aren't smarter than the average person -- if anything, they're a little below average -- but with as much information as they have, it's hard not to feel smart. Dinah's probably gonna be really manipulative if her powers are any indication. Oracle-types tend to feel really responsible for the things around them, the moral ones, anyways, and when you feel that responsible, you get manipulative. The amoral ones just want to control people."

He sighed. "So she's going to get worse, then."

"Hey." I laid my hand next to him, not quite sure about touching him yet, but going for the reassurance. "She's still gonna be your kid. And manipulative or not, you and Louise still get the final say on what she does. At least, until she's an adult."

"Yeah." He flashed a disarming grin and pulled himself together. I watched as his vulnerability sunk underneath the facade of charm and confidence.

Guess I knew where Dinah got that from.

He feigned surprise, glancing down at his giant meatball. "Our food's getting cold! Let's save the rest of the talking for after we finish."

I smiled and nodded.

A few minutes later, as I was polishing off my calzone, Dinah and Louise returned. I didn't know what they were talking about, but Dinah at least looked contrite. Louise had a very fake smile plastered on her face.

When they sat down, Louise spoke, "I'm so sorry about her. If we knew she was going to be so disrespectful, we wouldn't have brought her."

"It's really fine," I said, "Out of all the people I've been around, Dinah's about as harmless as they come."

Dinah glared at me, and I smirked at her.

Nobody spoke for a tense moment, before I snorted. "Just so you two know, I don't want to kidnap your kid. I've _been_ kidnapped. It's no fun. If you want me to help her, then I will, but I won't unless you want me to."

Louise opened her mouth as I waved the server over. She closed it.

The server looked at me, and I said. "Can we get the checks? I'm by myself, and I don't know about the others."

Thomas shook his head. "I've got it. One check, please."

The server looked at me. I shrugged. "I'm not going to argue."

After he left, I looked at Thomas. "I've got next time if we come here again."

He nodded.

"So," Louise said, "Where do we stand? Are we hiring you to help our daughter? I'm not opposed if my husband isn't."

Thomas nodded. "I'd like Alex to help us. I did some looking around, and aside from the PRT, there aren't any other people nearby that do what she's offering to do."

"And... Um... What is it I'm offering to do, again?" I raised an eyebrow at Dinah. Thomas and Louise looked at her.

She sunk under the weight of three pairs of eyes. "I told them you'd help me learn my powers, protect me in the cape world, and help me stay free." She finished with a sheepish smile.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Louise glared at her. "We'll talk about this later, Dinah Marie."

I shook my head. "It's fine. That's about what we discussed yesterday. Now, uh, I didn't go into this expecting payment. I'm happy to do it for free."

Thomas scoffed. "You're going to be using your powers for our benefit. We wouldn't ask that of you without paying for your services."

I blinked. "Okay." I blinked again. "Okay... Let me get back to you on rates, then. Until that happens, we'll play it by ear?"

Louise nodded. "We'll get in touch with you to schedule Dinah's first session. Can we get your number?"

I nodded.

After swapping phones around like a game of hot potato, everybody had everybody's number, and we all collectively got up to leave.

While we were putting coats on, Louise flipped her hair out of her coat, then turned to me. "I want to thank you for helping her. We were really worried about how Dinah was going to do all by herself. Having an older cape to help her learn is... It helps."

I nodded. "I'm happy to do it. Before I got my powers, I was working on setting up a summer camp for kids her age. Now, that's pretty much dead, but I'm glad I'll have to chance to be a mentor anyway."

She nodded and smiled. "We'll get in touch in a few days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about missing last week's update and for this week being a day late!!! I had reasons that I can't remember now but I'm sure they were reasoned reasonable reasons! In addition to Pita, Kittius, and Chartic, who are my constant and faithful betas, frustratedFreeboota helped on this chapter and found a couple things I'd missed, so if everybody could give them a big hand, that would be great! Today's fic rec is, in the theme of ship-fics, a no powers college AU with contandria front and center! Go read [Life Bends Down](https://forums.spacebattles.com/posts/44550091/) by Pericardium! It's super cute and her way with words constantly amazes me!  
> (;-; I don't even Shakespeare, bro~)
> 
> (I'm so sorry that this chapter is so lackluster for such a long break. I kinda had to get through the Generic SI Plot Stuff so I could get to CHAPTER SEVEN OH MY GOD I'M SO EXCITED FOR NEXT CHAPTER!!!!!!!! I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!) (That said, this weekend is Pride and also my birthday so it might be late again. I'll do my best to get it out, but might not be near my computer so please forgive me if we skip next week too.)
> 
>  _Business:_ I recognize that these chapters aren't flowing well together on a full readthrough. Once this book is done, I'll go through and edit the whole thing to flow well. That'll mostly mean there will be more foreshadowing, setup for future chapters, deleting things I decided not to do after setting them up, and adding transitional sections between chapters and scenes. The bones of the plot won't change and most of the scenes won't change, but it'll all feel more cohesive and coherent and less jerky. As I keep going with this book, I'll be doing some of this along the way, but I'm not going back to do anything with the chapters that are already up until the whole thing is done because otherwise I'll get bogged down for months in edits and waffling.
> 
> Now for this chapter's question!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Question for the readers:** How is Alex functioning so well on so little sleep? Good golly, what crazy shit is in her tea??? (Is Alex buying tinker-drugs? Is she making dangerous stimulants with her organic chemistry knowledge? Is she Just That Badass? Did she take a nap???)  
>  **Or!** What's Alex's alcoholic beverage of choice?


End file.
